


Chase the Dawn

by BinaryIsForRobots



Series: Burn it down, Build it up [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Haruno Sakura, BAMF Tsunade (Naruto), Bittersweet Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Discussion of Abortion, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Roller Coaster, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Gaslighting, Gen, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lack of Communication, M/M, Multi, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Uchiha Sasuke, Self-Harm, Shimura Danzo is gross, Uchiha Sasuke Needs a Hug, Uzumaki Naruto Needs a Hug, War, but also a slap, pet death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2019-10-04 05:30:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17298677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BinaryIsForRobots/pseuds/BinaryIsForRobots
Summary: -They say the night is darkest just before dawn. The tricky part is not giving up hope before that morning finally comes.//Sequel to Let it be Known, where the world is plunged into all-out war, and the shinobi system is flipped on its head//





	1. Otogakure no Sato

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tius/gifts).



> Welcome back, everyone!  
> This story picks right back up where Let it be Known left off. Thanks for joining us!
> 
> -DISCLAIMER: this chapter contains death of both the human and pet variety. Proceed with caution

In contrast with the frigid weather of Iron Country, this new country is warm, and humid. Vivid green moss and vines cover every rock and tree creating an alien sort of feeling. Naruto wraps his arms around himself, unease settling into his blood. But after two days of nearly nonstop travelling, and only leaving the samurai behind half a day earlier, he’s eager to get it over with.

Kabuto steps out in front of the rest of the group holding his arms outward and smiling.

“Welcome to Otogakure.”

A confused hush falls over the small crowd of Konoha ninja. Naruto scratches at the back of his blond head, squinting while he looks around.

“Uh...where’s the village  _ dattebayo _ ?”

“Hm? Oh, that’s right-”

Kabuto performs a few quick hand signs, then touches his fingers to the ground for a brief moment.

For a few seconds, nothing happens.

“Uh-”

The ground rumbles beneath them. Someone curses; a few stumble. The earth shifts violently upward, revealing a heavy stone door that opens up to a steep, dark staircase.

Kabuto gestures toward it with his head.

“You didn’t think Oto was like any other village you could just walk into, did you?” he asks, with a raised eyebrow. “Orochimaru-sama has to be more careful than that.”

He lays a hand in the center of the door; there’s the muffled sound of chains rattling. Then, with a shriek, the door opens.

“It’ll be right this way, if you don’t mind. And as for  _ you-” _

Rather than merely controlling Itachi’s movements, Kabuto seizes him roughly by the arm. When he speaks, his voice is low, anger boiling just beneath the surface.

“-We’ve got something to talk about.”

Itachi doesn't reply, not that Kabuto was keen on hearing one anyway.

He waves the ragtag group of runaways down the seemingly endless staircase. Naruto holds his breath and follows with the rest. He picks up his pace to fall into step just behind Jiraiya and Tsunade. The footsteps of a hundred or so people echo off the stone walls, creating an almost deafening roar.

“Hey, uh-”

He feels his cheeks grow warm.

“-Thanks for stickin’ with me, you guys. It really means a lot.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jiraiya answers, putting on his best attempt at a smile, though the way he keeps his arms firmly folded betrays his anxiety.

Tsunade maintains her silence. Her brown eyes are focused straight ahead, her nails biting into the sides of her arms. Both Naruto and Jiraiya know that look- it’s the look she gets when the wheels in her head are turning frantically. They also know better than to try to break her concentration, until she finally speaks.

“I’m gonna find that Uchiha,” she says, absentmindedly stroking the crow still perched obediently on her shoulder. “And tell him I’ve got his eye.”

“Yeah. Sounds like a plan.”

Jiraiya hangs back for the split second he needs for Naruto to catch up to him, letting Tsunade go on ahead. He puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gives it a comforting squeeze.

“Hey, I didn’t say anything before, but what you did back there was pretty gutsy. I’m proud of you.”

The flush in Naruto’s face deepens at the praise.  He raises a hand to his forehead like he wants to fiddle with his headband, only to be abruptly reminded that it’s not there anymore.

“...What’re we gonna do now?” he asks, in a soft voice.

“What we gotta do,” Jiraiya answers, matter-of-factly. “Whatever that’s gonna be.”

Naruto nods, uncertainty written in the crease of his brow.

“Yeah…”

“Take care of yourself, alright? I’ve gotta...I’ve got something I need to do.”

Before Naruto can protest, Jiraiya has vanished into the crowd.

“Naruto-kun?”

The boy nearly jumps out of his skin and narrowly avoids falling down the last few steps.

“H-Hinata! Where’d you come from  _ dattebayo _ ?!”

“Um, I came with everyone else,” Hinata answers. The way Naruto turns beet red lets her know he’d taken her remark to be teasing.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that!” She stammers, tripping over her words to wipe the wounded expression off his face.

“No...it’s fine  _ dattebayo _ . I’m glad you’re okay. That makes me happy.”

It’s Hinata’s turn to grow bright red.

“...N-Naruto-kun...about what I said- w-when Pain attacked-”

Naruto freezes in his tracks.

_ “...Because I love you.” _

(Of course he remembers. How could he ever forget?)

“I-I meant every word of it. I...I hope you believe that.”

The boy pulls at the back of his neck, clearing his throat, blue eyes darting wildly around the room.

“I uh- Hinata I-”

He pulls a face.

“...I believe you. And Hinata I…”

Uncertainly, he reaches out to take her hand. Hinata lets out a small, startled squeak.

“I knew I could count on you to stick with me  _ dattebayo. _ Cause you always have.”

Hinata nods, and smiles reassuringly at him.

“No matter what happens next, I’ll be here with you. I promise.”

He squeezes her hand tightly, willing himself not to feel afraid.

 

“Sasuke-kun-”

Sakura approaches anxiously, tucking a stray lock of pink hair behind her ear for the sake of having something to do with her hands. Sasuke doesn't speak, but he tilts his head in a way that lets her know he’s listening. An improvement, considering he’s spent the last week avoiding her like the plague.

Sakura’s mouth feels dry- she swallows, and takes a deep breath to steady her nerves. When she reaches out to touch his arm, he goes rigid but doesn't pull away from her.

“Sasuke-kun, I know this is hard for you-”

“-You don’t know anything.”

There’s the slightest tremor in Sasuke’s voice. His skin has the barest tinge of green to it, like he’s about to be ill. He pulls away from her and stalks off, desperate to maintain his composure.

“Sasu-”

“-Just leave me alone.”

Sasuke picks up his pace, making it clear that he doesn't want Sakura to follow- though of course, she follows anyway, unwilling to let him go off alone in such a state.

“Sasuke-kun, please just listen to me-”

“I said leave me alone!”

Sasuke rounds a corner to try to get away from her; neither of them notice the chatter that comes within earshot when he does so.

“Sasuke  _ please- _ ”

“-How many times do I have to…”

Sasuke’s next turn takes him into a large communal area; his voice trails off when they’re greeted by a sea of people, perched on every flat surface- beaten up, bruised and bandaged, each bearing the Uchiha clan crest on their backs.

Their frantic murmuring dies abruptly, the second they notice his presence.

Sasuke blinks in surprise, too stunned to say anything. What little color there is in his face drains away, leaving him gray and looking ready to faint.

After maybe thirty seconds of silence, an elderly Uchiha man stands up.  He approaches Sasuke, his heavily lined face an inscrutable mask. Sakura raises a hand to protect him- 

-The old may grasps Sasuke’s shoulders, stern expression melting into a warm smile.

(Sakura didn’t know Uchiha faces were capable of such an expression.)

“...You look just like your mother,” the man says, his rough voice softened by an overwhelming fondness.

Sasuke can’t even summon the will to resist when he’s pulled into a tight hug.

“You brave boy. We’re so glad to have you back.”

Sasuke makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a whimper that catches in his throat.

“Hey, don’t hog him, Jurei! We wanna see him too!”

Sakura finds herself shoved out of the way, separated from Sasuke by a wall of excited Uchiha.

“Jurei is right- he’s got Mikoto’s face-”

“He’s sturdy though- strong just like his old man-”

“-Oh my, what pretty eyes-”

“-Still hasn’t learned to brush his hair though- he was always so fussy about that- drove his poor mother crazy…”

Confusion keeps Sakura rooted to the spot. She’s never seen  _ so many  _ Uchiha in one place; let alone so many  _ happy  _ Uchiha. They continue to obliviously gush over Sasuke, while he remains rigid, still as a stone statue.

“Sasuke, dear? Are you alright?”

An elderly woman reaches out to brush his hair out of his face- only for Sasuke to swat her hand away taking a stumbling step backward and finally manages to choke out a single word.

“ _ Stop _ !”

The others look at Sasuke in concern; he clutches at his throat, drawing sharp, ragged gasps like breathing is hurting him. His dark eyes are so wide they might burst out of his skull.

He grips the sides of his head, shutting his eyes tight like he can block out the feelings welling up inside him.

“I-it’s not- _ you’re _ not-”

The rest of his sentence morphs into a hoarse groan.

He takes another step backward, trips over his own two feet, and falls; Sakura catches him before he can hit the cold stone floor. His entire body is wracked with violent tremors.

“...I think he needs some space right now,” she offers, though saying it makes her feel rather pathetic. The others comply, however, backing off to give the boy some much needed room to breathe. He draws a few great,shaking breaths in an effort to compose himself.

“...Where are my mother and father?” Sasuke finally mumbles, so quiet he’s almost not heard.

“They’re alright- I think they’re talking things over with the other clan heads,” someone answers. 

Sasuke forces himself to support his own weight once more, though he sways ominously on the spot.

“I need to talk to them.”

“They’ll be out to see you soon, I’m sure-”

“-I need to talk to them  _ now _ .”

He stalks off in search of his parents- Sakura hurries to follow after him, grabbing his wrist so he can’t leave her sight.

-and they nearly run headfirst into a familiar face. A little beat up and more than a little weary, but here and alive.

“Iruka-sensei!” 

Sakura breaks out into a grin. Iruka, notably, does not return the gesture.

“I’m so glad you’re alright!” Sakura breathes. “I’m sure Naruto is worried sick about you!”

The man grimaces, and draws a deep breath. Sakura doesn't pick up on that right away.

“Hey, you haven’t seen my mom and dad anywhere, have you? Did they make it out okay? I’m sure they left with everyone else- did they make it here safely?”

Iruka’s frown deepens; Sakura’s smile falls. She tightens her grip on Sasuke’s wrist without thinking.

“Sakura,” Iruka says, his voice hoarse. “Your mom and dad…”

“They...they didn’t stay, did they?”

“No, they-”

He trails off, heaves another sigh, scratching at a deep gash on his cheek.

“...I’m really sorry to be the one to tell you- your mom and dad are dead.”

 

* * *

Jiraiya steps carefully over the threshold to Orochimaru’s bedroom, like he were wary there might be a trap set (though of course, that’s silly...probably).

Seated in front of a vanity mirror, Orochimaru continues quietly preening as though he didn’t notice the new arrival. He gathers his hair in deft fingers, binding it up in a glossy braid down the side of his head, humming a tune that sounds oddly familiar (though Jiraiya can’t remember the name). He’s dressed in the same pitch-black attire his shadow clone had worn to his declaration of war.

Jiraiya clears his throat, unsure what exactly he wants to say.

“...I’m glad you’re okay,” he says, carefully.

A brief silence before Orochimaru replies.

“Same for you, Jiraiya.”

Flat. Matter-of-fact. Emotionless. Jiraiya wonders if he’s somehow already managed to offend Orochimaru.

He lets his eyes wander to the bed, along the silk sheets and overstuffed pillows that adorn it. Anything so he doesn't have to look at his old friend.

“So. It’s really coming down to this, huh? War, I mean.” 

“It seems so.”

His hands curl into fists. Orochimaru ties off the end of his braid with a black ribbon, to match the rest of his clothing. Standing up, he still opts to look at Jiraiya’s reflection, rather than at the man himself.

“Maru, I-” Jiraiya swallows his emotions down, trying to keep himself calm in front of his friend.

“...I wish I’d known, Orochimaru. I’m so sorry, I-”

Orochimaru presses a thin finger to painted lips, shushing him softly.

“There was nothing you could have done,” he says, his voice stained with something painful. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

Jiraiya clenches his teeth.

“But I know  _ now.  _ I’m here  _ now.  _ So what can I do? How can I help?”

The corners of Orochimaru’s mouth pull downward. He reaches up to toy with a loose lock of his hair.

“Is that a question you  _ really  _ want answered?” 

“If I didn’t want the answer I wouldn’t have asked!”

Finally, Orochimaru turns to face Jiraiya properly. Eyes narrow, he takes a few calculated steps toward the man.

“You still want to help me? Even now, knowing everything?”

The menacing tone of his voice makes Jiraiya hesitate.

“...Yeah,” he finally answers.

Without warning, Orochimaru is far too close to be comfortable. A wicked flame dances in those gold eyes, burning into the core of Jiraiya’s being.

“Help me burn this world to the ground.”

Orochimaru’s voice is sweet, crooning, practically  _ purring.  _ Delicate hands reach up to cradle Jiraiya’s face, touching him as gently as though he were some priceless porcelain artifact. His voice and his touch raise goosebumps on Jiraiya’s skin, send shivers up his spine and cause a shudder he can’t repress.

“Let me tear everything down. Let me build a throne from the bones of the dead in the ashes of the place we’d once called home. Let me rip this world apart and tear out its heart and bathe in its blood until I’ve washed away the past and found my comfort. Can you do that for me, old friend?”

Ice takes the place of blood in Jiraiya’s veins, and for a handful of frantic heartbeats he can’t move. Finally, though, he manages to lift his arms up and takes Orochimaru’s hands in his, pulling them away from his face.

(He can’t help but notice how his hands utterly dwarf Orochimaru’s.)

The rational part of him knows this is absolutely insane. That he should probably pull away, tell Orochimaru he’s lost his mind. But he finds himself stuck, mesmerized by the fire in those hypnotic gold eyes.

“...Whatever it takes,” he says. “Whatever you need. I’ll do it.”

Orochimaru nuzzles the crook of Jiraiya’s neck, a laugh rumbling deep in his chest.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Jiraiya squeezes Orochimaru’s hands tight, like he’s afraid Orochimaru will run away if he lets go. He feels Orochimaru press his lips against the bite mark he’d left behind, feels Orochimaru smirk against his skin, and suddenly finds himself dizzy.

“Come with me, old friend,” Orochimaru urges. “We’ve got a meeting with our Daimyo.”

“Our?”

“You’re a part of Otogakure now. My Daimyo is yours as well. So-”

Still keeping their hands connected, Orochimaru pulls back, gesturing toward the open door with his head.

“Shall we?”

 

* * *

  
  


“What happened?”

Tsume bears her teeth at Fugaku, a feral glint in her eyes, bent protectively over one of the many cots crowding the room, clutching at a motionless, pale hand. When Fugaku steps closer, he realizes it’s her daughter.

“The hell do you think happened?” she growls. “Everything went to hell after you left, and now nobody knows if my daughter’s gonna wake up!”

“But I mean- how did-”

“How do you  _ think,  _ Fugaku?! Most of the village was against us- what chance did we have?!”

“...Calm down, Tsume.”

Both their heads snap in the direction of Hiashi’s voice.

In the farthest cot away from them, Hiashi laboriously pulls himself into a sitting position. Crimson-soaked bandages cover the place where his right arm would  _ normally  _ be, but notably  _ isn’t.  _ Huddled beside him is his younger daughter, a thick layer of gauze covering the entire left side of her face, caught in a fitful sleep.

“Hiashi, what-”

“Things got just a bit out of hand,” Hiashi replies, in what surely amounts to the understatement of the century. “Outnumbered and all that- kekkai genkai doesn't fix everything, y’know?”

Fugaku runs a hand through his hair, not quite able to believe what he’s seeing. While he’s struggling to process his emotions, Mikoto pokes her head in the doorway, mouth pressed into a grim line.

“Tsume-”

Mikoto’s voice is so soft it almost isn’t heard over the pained groaning of the injured.

Tsume glances back at Hana’s unconscious form

“Tsume, your son…”

That gets the other woman’s full attention.

“Is he hurt?!”

“No, not him…”

With a grimace, Mikoto motions her to follow. When Fugaku tries to come as well, Mikoto pushes him away.

“You’d best stay here,” she advises.

“I-”

“-Just stay with Hana for a bit, okay?”

Fugaku frowns, but relents. He nods his understanding, and stays behind.

 

“Mikoto, what’s going  _ on _ ?” Tsume demands, joining Mikoto in a half-run down the cavernous stone hallway. “What happened to Kiba?”

“Like I said, nothing to  _ him, _ ” Mikoto answers. “But-”

She leads her friend to another area, to a secluded alcove far away from everyone else. It’s then that Tsume notices the blood staining her hands.

When they enter the lonely little area, Mikoto speaks up, her voice soft and gentle.

“Kiba? Honey, I found your mother-”

All she receives in response is a low, miserable groan.

The two women bend down to peer into the secluded nook the boy has sheltered himself in, the deep red torchlight finally brings him into view.

Kiba is huddled up on the floor, a mass of filthy, matted, bloody fur gathered up in his arms. His face buried in Akamaru’s side, the pained sounds he makes are muffled.

Akamaru doesn't make a sound. Doesn't move.  

Doesn't breathe.

“Oh my god-” 

Tsume gets down on her knees, embracing her son and his dog regardless of the blood and the grime.

“Kiba, I’m so sorry.”


	2. The Sannin United

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the chapter states, the Sannin are getting the band back together. Also some other stuff happens and Biwako is a BAMF.

“What did you do?”

Itachi doesn't so much as blink when Kabuto slams him against a rough stone wall, yellow eyes narrow, face contorted with rage.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Itachi answers.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Kabuto hisses. “You broke out of my control. What the  _ hell  _ did you do?!”

Itachi tilts his head, in a rather birdlike way.

“What else was I supposed to do when my brother was threatened?”

Kabuto blinks, caught off-guard by Itachi’s blunt answer.

“Why would I let anyone lay a hand on my brother when I could stop it? It was never even a question.”

Kabuto bares his fangs at Itachi, then releases him with an annoyed huff.

“I hate you.”

“I’m aware of that,” Itachi answers.

Still livid, Kabuto turns on his heel and storms off, not bothering to recall Itachi to his stone coffin.

Itachi is just grateful for the silence.

 

* * *

“Well?”

Orochimaru tilts his head, while Biwako glares holes through him. She walks right past the Daimyo, and completely disregards Jiraiya.

-She grabs Orochimaru by the ear and yanks him toward her. Orochimaru swears in a rather undignified fashion.

“Do you have  _ any  _ idea how worried sick I was for all those years?! You’ve caused enough trouble and heartache for a thousand lifetimes, and now you’re just going to stand there like everything is okay?! I won’t allow it!”

“I-”

“-I don’t want to hear any of your excuses. I’m so mad I can hardly stand to look at you. I don’t know what on Earth got into you, but one would think I raised you better! God, if your mother and father knew the nonsense you’ve been up to-”

To Jiraiya’s surprise, and the Daimyo’s amusement, Orochimaru hangs his head. 

“...I’m sorry,” he mutters, rather sheepishly. “Things got out of hand.”

With an annoyed huff, Biwako releases his ear, allowing him to stand straight once more.

“Well, I suppose we have more pressing matters than that on our hands at the moment, so I’ll save that conversation for later. But don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten about it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jiraiya snorts before he can stop himself. Biwako turns that piercing glare onto him, and he instantly withers.

“Don’t think I don’t have a piece of my mind for you too, young man,” she scolds. “What in god’s name were you thinking, just abandoning Naruto for all those years? What sort of cut-rate godfather are you?!” 

Jiraiya splutters, suddenly losing his ability to form complex sentences. The Daimyo laughs.

“You ninja lead interesting lives,” he remarks. Then, gesturing with his head, he offers, “should we go sit down? We’ve got plenty that needs sorting out.”

“Yes, let’s do that,” Orochimaru says, quickly, rubbing at his twisted ear. Despite his fine clothing, he looks for all the world like a naughty child with the way he’s sulking.

They follow the daimyo through one of the many torch-lit hallways, and Jiraiya has to wonder to himself how he knows where he’s going. But neither him nor Orochimaru seem very concerned about getting lost, so he just follows along without protest.

“Word of what happened in the Land of Iron has spread fast,” the Daimyo says. “We’ve been getting reports of riots and rebellions from at least a dozen villages- last I heard it’s absolute bedlam in Kirigakure especially. I’ve had to open up some of the villages surrounding this one to accommodate all the refugees we’re expecting. I’ll admit, I didn’t anticipate that your little rallying cry would garner quite this much support.”

Orochimaru doesn't say anything in response, but gets a smug air about him that says  _ well what else did you expect?  _ for him.

After what feels like an eternity of walking but really is probably only about five minutes) they arrive at a small meeting room, where tea and an assortment of snacks has already been laid out. 

“You can help yourselves,” the Daimyo says offhandedly, while they take their seats around the table.

Jiraiya takes that invitation, pouring himself some tea and grabbing a few onigiri.

“So, Orochimaru, I don’t think I’ve been introduced. Would you mind?”

“Hm?” Orochimaru doesn't even look up from his tea. “Well, this is Jiraiya, and this is Sarutobi Biwako. They’ve been um- out of action for a bit, so you wouldn’t have had the chance to meet.”

“Sarutobi?”

The Daimyo winces sympathetically.

“This must be rather upsetting for you, considering the circumstances. I mean, the Sandaime is-”

Biwako scoffs.

“My husband decided to be spineless,” she replies, her tone curt. “He had the chance to stand up to that man -he had a thousand chances- and he decided not to. I’m not the least bit surprised things ended up this way.”

She slams her teacup down more violently than is necessary.

“It’s how Shimura has always been. It’s no different from the tantrums he threw when we were children. The only difference is the scale- he’ll gladly let the world burn out of spite at this point.”

“We won’t let that happen!” Jiraiya insists, banging his fist against the table. 

“Of course not,” the Daimyo says. “My country isn’t particularly wealthy or powerful, but I think you can find we’re quite tenacious when we set our minds to it.”

“We should be receiving word from Suna and Kumo soon, as well,” Orochimaru adds. “I hardly think we’ll be fighting this war alone.”

“Hm. I’ve heard good things about that young Kazekage. I’m sure we can count on him.”

“The Raikage might be more of an issue though,” Jiraiya mutters. “He’s pretty hard-headed from what I hear.”

“I’m not too concerned,” Orochimaru says, with a sly sort of smile. “It’s an opportunity to grind Konoha into the dirt- How could he pass that up? After all, Kumo has yet to fully recover from the last war, given all the restrictions and sanctions that got piled onto them.”

“We’ll see, I suppose.”

“A fine mess, this’ll turn out to be,”  Biwako scowls.

“Messes can be cleaned up,” Orochimaru reminds her. 

Biwako does not seem comforted by this.

“-At any rate,” the Daimyo says, steering the conversation. “Biwako-san, if you don’t mind me making a request, we’ve got hundreds of injuries, and only a dozen or so medics trying to treat everyone. If you could lend a hand in patching everyone up, I’d appreciate it.”

Biwako straightens up, regaining that intense look the Sannin are far too familiar with.

“Of course,” she says, with no hesitation, already standing up and heading toward the door.

“Be careful,” Jiraiya cautions. “I mean, you-”

“I’m old, not helpless,” Biwako snaps. “And you’re a hundred years too young to be telling  _ me  _ to be careful.”

Jiraiya wilts. He goes to pour himself another cup of tea to keep himself from saying more stupid things.

“Someone’s in a feminine mood,” the Daimyo remarks, steering the conversation toward a new topic. Orochimaru merely shrugs in response.

Those words get Jiraiya to finally notice that, indeed, Orochimaru looks quite a bit more feminine than he had before. His face is rounder, softer- is it some sort of jutsu or-

“Is it just for fun, or are you planning to flirt your way into the Raikage’s good graces?”

Jiraiya would be offended on Orochimaru’s behalf, but the Daimyo’s light, teasing tone and the way Orochimaru laughs that lilting noblewoman laugh of his tell him it’s  _ probably _ all in good fun.

“What sort of cheap harlot do you take me for?” Orochimaru giggles, pretending to be scandalized. “I would never! And besides-”

Without warning, he grabs Jiraiya’s arm and hugs it against his chest.

“-I think you’ll find I’m spoken for these days.”

Jiraiya chokes on a mouthful of tea.

“W-wait-  _ what?! _ ” he splutters, feeling quite stupid.

“Oh?”

The Daimyo tilts his head in genuine surprise.

“I would never have guessed. He doesn't really strike me as your type.”

“Why limit myself to a single type?” Orochimaru asks. “It’s much more fun to play around.”

Jiraiya isn’t sure whether he should be angry or not, so decides biting his tongue is a better option.

He’ll decide how he feels about this later.

(He has to admit- at least to himself- having someone hang off his arm like he’s someone special is pretty nice.)

 

* * *

“You’re lying.”

“Ow-”

Sakura’s grip on Sasuke’s wrist tightens to the point the bone nearly snaps. Iruka takes a cautious step forward, putting his hands up in a non-threatening gesture.

“Sakura, I’m really sorry-”

“-You’re  _ lying! _ ”

Sakura has started to shake; her green eyes go so wide they might fall out of her head.

“They can’t have- I didn’t even tell them where I’d gone-”

Blood drains from her face, horror dawning on her.

“-I forgot to say goodbye-”

Sasuke casts a concerned glance out of the corner of his eye.

“I didn’t tell them goodbye before I left- now I’ll never-”

“Sasuke! Sakura-chan! I found ya!”

Naruto’s smile immediately falls when the tense atmosphere and grim faces register.

“...What’s going on?” he asks, in a suddenly small voice.

Sakura abruptly releases Sasuke’s wrist, leaving behind blossoming bruises in the shape of her fingers.

“I’m leaving,” she says, pushing Iruka aside and heading toward a staircase.

“Hey, weren’t  _ you  _ the one who insisted you wanted to talk to me?!” Sasuke demands, more than a little miffed.

He doesn't receive an answer- he and Naruto follow her down the staircase, even further into the depths of the earth, leaving a distraught Iruka behind them.

“Sakura-chan, what’s going on?” Naruto asks again.

“Mind your own business,” Sakura snips.

“But we’re friends  _ dattebayo _ ! Lemme help!”

She comes to a dead stop so quickly the three of them nearly run into each other.

“You think you can fix it?” 

She bows over from the weight of her emotions.

“You wanna fix it, Naruto? Find out how to bring my mom and dad back from the dead.”

“Eh? They’re-”

Sasuke and Naruto jump out of their skin when she howls, punches a wall, and sends rubble and shards of concrete everywhere.

“The hell-” Sasuke mutters.

Sakura drops to her knees, huddled in a pitiful heap on the floor.

And she wails.

The sound pierces Naruto’s heart, dragging back memories he’s tried to bury in the back of his mind.

He remembers that wail from long ago, in what seems like another lifetime. Only then, Sakura had been curled up over what they’d thought was Sasuke’s corpse, after trying her hardest to hold back.

And just like back then, there’s nothing,  _ nothing  _ he can do.

Naruto opens his mouth, wanting desperately to comfort her, but Sasuke grabs his shoulder in a silent warning to keep quiet. He motions for the two of them to leave with a jerk of his head.

“But she-”

Sasuke shakes his head, and grabs Naruto’s collar to urge him out of the room. After a moment or two of resistance, Naruto gives in, and follows him back up the stairs, the echoes of Sakura’s hopeless wailing following them.

-

“Alright, that’s all sorted. Let me know if it hurts too badly or if you start getting a fever, got it?”

Despite being sedated out of his mind, Shisui manages to nod.

Tsunade would rather stay to make sure nothing went wrong, but she’s well aware of the countless others who need seeing to right now.

(She’s still surprised it took so little time to put that eye back in. Uchiha bodies are weird and creepy.)

She rolls her stiff shoulders, then turns around- and very nearly runs straight into Jiraiya.

“You look tired.”

“Yeah, I am,” Tsunade replies, after getting over her surprise. “But I’ll be fine.”

Jiraiya doesn't question her further on this.

“You don’t happen have any idea where I should head next, do you?” Tsunade asks him. But Jiraiya isn’t the one who answers.

“Kabuto has been working on getting triage tags on everyone who’s injured,” Orochimaru says, walking up beside Jiraiya,  looking through a few pages of hastily scribbled notes. “The most critical have mostly been seen to and stabilized already, but there’s still plenty of work that needs done.”

Tsunade stares him down, not saying a word. He glances up from the papers with an eyebrow raised. She takes a step forward, amber eyes locked on his-

And slaps him across the face. Hard.

“Hey what the fuck was that for?!” Jiraiya yells. For his part, Orochimaru takes the blow without protest.

Instead, she grabs Orochimaru and pulls him into a tight hug. Cradling his head against her shoulder, she chokes back the desire to cry.

“...You idiot,” she murmurs, her voice wavering. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?!” 

Recovering from his shock, Orochimaru summons the will to return her embrace.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not leaving me again. Either of you.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Orochimaru assures her. Tsunade can feel his smile against her neck.

“Try to and I’ll kill you,” she warns both of them.

Orochimaru laughs, and it makes her heart ache, because it’s the  _ same damn laugh  _ she remembers from their childhood. That sweet, melancholy laugh that stirs up an old longing in her heart.

It’s so,  _ so  _ hard to release Orochimaru from that hug. 

(It’s only now that she’s gotten it that she realizes how badly she’d needed it.)

“Now- about those triage tags-”

“Right.”

Pretending to be oblivious to the bright red handprint across his cheek, Orochimaru hands her the pages of notes.

“What can I do?” Jiraiya asks.

“Go around and find me everyone with a black tag,” Orochimaru replies, rolling up his embroidered silk sleeves. Jiraiya obeys immediately.

“You’re gonna help me?” Tsunade inquires; it’s her turn to raise a skeptical eyebrow.

“Well why not?”

Tsunade decides not to respond, but she can’t repress a smile.

Despite the dire situation this is shaping up to be, she’s grateful to have her old friend back.

(At least for now, anyway.)

 

* * *

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Asuma musters up a smile for Kakashi when he enters the room, handing his infant daughter back to Kurenai so he can stand up to greet their friend.

“We were really worried about you, y’know!” 

“Aw, I’m flattered,” Kakashi replies, with a fake swoon.

It takes a second for anyone to register the man trailing silently behind him.

“Hey, who’s that?” Kurenai demands, drawing her child closer to herself.

Kakashi finds himself cut off when he tries to answer.

“-Maybe it’d jog your memory if I put on a pair of obnoxious orange goggles and started showing up an hour late to everything?”

Both Kurenai and Asuma’s eyes go wide- Gai, however, seems unfazed.

“Obi- but you’re- when did you-”

Kakashi waves his hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Doesn't matter. Hey- where’s Genma, anyway? I haven’t seen him yet- he didn’t get hurt, did he?”

Asuma, Gai and Kurenai exchange somber looks.

“...Genma’s gone, man,” Asuma answers, pulling a face.

Kakashi’s brow furrows.

“What happened?”

“We were trying to leave-” Kurenai answers, forlornly. “We got cornered. And Genma said-”

She chokes, and can’t finish the story. So Asuma does it for her.

“-He said  _ there’s no way in hell all of us are getting out alive. I guess I’ll take one for the team. _ Didn’t even give us enough time to argue with him.”

Kakashi glances back at Obito; he can’t read the expression on that heavily-scarred face. He heaves a sigh, scratches the back of his head, and says the only words he can muster.

“That fucking sucks.”

Gai and Asuma both nod. Kurenai strokes her child’s cheek to keep from breaking down.

Mirai’s quiet fussing is the only sound that breaks the silence.

Kakashi sits on one of the handful of cots scattered around the room, and rests his head in his hands. Asuma gathers his wife and daughter into his arms, trying to comfort the both of them. Obito folds his arms, his expression as unreadable as ever.

  
They sit like that for a stretch of eternity, and contemplate the path ahead of them.  
  
  


It's gonna be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in the triage system, black is the color for the ones who're fucked and basically gonna die no matter what you do. Yeah.


	3. The roots can grow more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit's hitting the fan. That is all.

Hiruzen hasn’t said a single word since every last ninja had been unceremoniously expelled from the Land of Iron. Like a beaten dog, he’s trailed docilely behind his group of one-time friends, back to the ruined husk of Konohagakure. He listens with a flat expression, as one of Danzo’s loyal operatives reads him the casualty report from the revolt that occurred while they were away. He doesn't protest when Danzo shoos Koharu and Homura away, nor does he ask them to stay with them.

Danzo watches the other man out of the corner of his eye, but otherwise gives him no acknowledgement until he finally finds his voice.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” he says, in a hoarse, barely-there whisper.

“How would you know?” Danzo inquires, not bothering to turn his head. “You’ve been gone for years.”

“Good people died here!” Sarutobi snaps, gesturing to the carnage all around them.

“Good people die all the time,” Danzo says, with a dismissive shrug. “This isn’t a special occasion.”

Hiruzen looks startled at the callous statement. Danzo is as uncaring as ever, as is the silent masked figure in front of him.

“For a tree to remain healthy, every now and again the branches need to be pruned back. I’m sure you understand that, Hiruzen.”

“They’re members of our village just as much as we are!” 

“No, Hiruzen. They’re traitors. Each of them that died deserved what they got.”

“How could you say such a thing?!”

“It’s the way things have always been. You  _ know  _ this.”

Hiruzen scowls at his once friend. Danzo holds his hand out toward the masked person accompanying them; the man hands his unsheathed sword over without a word.

“You’ve always said that, in order to survive, a tree needs both the leaves and the roots. Isn’t that right, Hiruzen?”

The other man has no answer.

“You and I both know that’s a lie.”

“What are you-”

“If the roots die, the tree dies with it. But if the leaves die-”

In a single motion, Danzo turns around, and drives the blade clean through Sarutobi’s chest.

“-The roots can simply grow more.”

Hiruzen opens his mouth, but only blood pours out.a small, strangled sound escapes him when Danzo twists the blade, yanking it out without a care.

“I’ve outgrown your weakness, Hiruzen.  _ Konoha _ has outgrown your weakness. And it's far past time for Konoha to move on without you."  


Danzo hands the bloodied blade back to the masked figure, turning and walking away without heed to his former friend collapsing on the ground.

“You don’t need to worry. Once your son and his whore have been dealt with, I’ll make sure your granddaughter is brought up as a proper kunoichi. She won’t have to know how much of a failure the rest of her family became.”

With those last words, he leaves the former Hokage- his former best friend- to bleed out, alone and forgotten, among the other corpses littering the streets of their decimated village. Left on his own to return from the afterlife he’d only so recently been pulled from.

It’s a warm, sunny day in Konoha. He hears birds chirping somewhere in the distance, growing ever fainter.

_ “Everybody dies alone.” _

The echoes of Orochimaru’s voice, from a day that seems a lifetime ago, play through his mind. He’d been so very young when he said it, burning his words into Hiruzen’s memory.

Orochimaru had been such a small child. Clutching a single white rose in a tiny, white hand, the child had blinked back tears that he didn’t want his teacher to see, laying the single flower over the grave of his mother and father. Hiruzen isn’t sure what had prompted Orochimaru to say what he had, back then.

_ “You could die by yourself, or you could die surrounded by everyone you love. It doesn't matter. Everyone crosses that last threshold alone, don’t they? It’s this world’s only guarantee.” _

Laying in the dirt, dying for the second time, Hiruzen knows all too well how right his student had been.

 

* * *

Temari’s first instinct, when she, Kankuro and Gaara are met by their father when they step into Gaara’s office, is to grab her youngest brother and pull him behind her. She doesn't get that chance, however; Gaara steps out of her reach, black-rimmed eyes locked on the man sitting at his desk.

A thin tendril of sand wraps itself around their father, hoisting him into the air and away from the desk. The man lets out an outraged cry. Kankuro and Temari exchange worried looks, but decide against intervening just yet.

“It’s indecent to let yourself into the Kazekage’s office without permission,” Gaara says, in a dangerously calm voice.

Their father lets out a derisive snort.

“You? Kazekage? Is that a joke?”

Gaara doesn't answer; his stone-cold expression is all the reply he needs.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve just walking back in here like you still fucking own the place,” Kankuro growls.

“And  _ you’ve  _ got some nerve using language like that with me,” their father replies.

“Oh, cut that shit out!” Temari snaps. “Don’t pretend you’ve earned any sort of respect from any of us!”

Rasa has the gall to act surprised that his children are speaking to him in such a way.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he demands, struggling futiley against the sand holding him in the air.

Temari glances at Gaara,concern written in the crease of her brow.

“...What do you wanna do about him?” she asks.

A few heartbeats of silence pass, while the boy deliberates what he wants.

Rasa doesn't let on his relief when he’s set back on the floor, the sand retreating back to its master.

“I don’t suppose there’s much  _ to  _ be done at the moment,” he answers, walking past him to sit at his desk. “After all, we have far more urgent matters to deal with.”

“Like?”

Gaara doesn't respond to his father.

“We need to get in contact with Otogakure as soon as possible,” he tells his brother and sister. “So they know they have our full support for whatever happens now.”

“I’ll go,” Temari says, without hesitation.

“You only wanna go ‘cause that Konoha guy you like is there.”

The slightest hint of a sly grin crosses Kankuro’s face when he speaks. Temari immediately turns a brilliant shade of scarlet.

“W-well what difference does it make  _ why  _ I wanna go, so long as it gets done?!” she retorts.

“I never said it made a difference,” Kankuro teases, putting his hands up in the air. “If you wanna go see your boyfriend, no one’s gonna stop you.”

“He isn’t my boyfriend!” Temari shouts, turning redder still.

“Back up a minute!” Rasa interrupts. “What boy from Konoha?”

“None of your business,” Temari retorts.

“I’m your father! Of course it’s my-”

“-You’re not our father,” Gaara interrupts, not bothering to look up from the papers he’s writing on. “You just happened to give us half our DNA. That doesn't make you our father.”

This declaration stunns Rasa into silence. Gaara finishes whatever he’s writing, seals the papers up, and hands it off to Temari.

“Take this to Otogakure.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

Gaara opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again.

“...If you see Lee, tell him I’m hoping to see him again soon.”

“Gotcha. Stay safe, guys.”

With that, Temari leaves the office, shutting the door behind her.

“So we’re doing this, huh?” Kankuro asks. “The war thing, I mean.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Gaara answers, matter-of-factly. “Konoha, Kiri and Iwa have been compromised. If we let that by without action, I’d bet it’s just a matter of time before Suna goes the same way.”

Rasa furrows his brow.

“So what I heard is true, then. There’s really a war starting.”’

“That’s right.”

“And I suppose I don’t get a say in the matter.”

“I don’t see why you would. I’m Kazekage now- it’s my decision to make.”

Gaara looks up at his older brother.

“You and I will take him and go see the Daimyo to inform him what we’re doing. He can support us or not, but Suna won’t be supporting Danzo or any of his allies in any circumstances.”

“Why’s he gotta come with us?” Kankuro demands. 

“So I can be sure he’s not meddling in our village’s affairs while I’m away.”

“...I suppose I don’t get a say in  _ that,  _ either.”

“Right again.”

Sand wraps around the man yet again, in a threatening half-embrace.

“We’ll be going, then.”

Gaara leads his father out like a dog on a leash; Rasa knows better than to challenge the menacing look on his youngest son’s face.

(He can’t help but marvel, despite everything, at how much Gaara’s face looks like his mother’s.)

 

* * *

“Excuse me-”

Kabuto lets out an annoyed sigh, turning his head halfway around to look at the girl behind him.

Izumi bows her head apologetically, lifting up the tray of food in her hands.

“I noticed you’ve been working for a long time, and I haven’t seen you take a break yet.” Her voice is small, and sheepish.  “I thought you must be hungry.”

Kabuto snorts.

“I’m fine,” he quips, turning back to the half-dead man on the gurney in front of him that he’s currently trying to salvage. “Take that and go bother someone else.”

Izumi goes pink in the cheeks, her anger flaring up.

“I don’t believe you- when was the last time you even sat down?!”

“I missed the part where that’s any concern of yours.”

“I-is it wrong to care about people?!” Izumi snaps, slamming the tray of food down on the empty table beside Kabuto. Kabuto maintains his air of disdain, driving a bright blue chakra scalpel into the man in front of him.

“I’d prefer you mind your own business.”

Izumi stomps her foot in frustration.

“You could be a little nicer, you know!”

“I’m aware,” Kabuto answers, with a shrug. “Could you go away now?”

Izumi tries to protest more, but a shout and a horrible gurgling sound cuts her off.

“Another one, huh?” Kabuto calls over.

“It’s insulting they thought anyone would fall for it.”

Izumi’s head jerks around.

The voice is familiar. Deeper than she remembers, and more tired, but familiar all the same.

“...Itachi-kun?”

He’s so much taller than she remembers him. So much thinner and paler, and those strange black,  _ black  _ eyes of his send a shiver down her spine. But she could never mistake him for anyone else.

He can’t even look her in the eye.

“Itachi-kun-”

She walks toward him, nervously. Quietly.

Then, without warning, howls in anger, kicking him squarely between the legs, sending him toppling backward.

“Itachi-kun, you  _ bastard!” _

Itachi still doesn't say a word or look in her direction. He picks himself off the floor and dusts off his cloak.

“What, can’t even bother with a  _ sorry _ ?!” Izumi screams. “You’re just gonna keep your mouth shut like nothing happened?! Not even gonna  _ look  _ at me?!”

She doesn't get an answer, as is Itachi’s usual behavior. He hides his face in the fringe of his black hair, looking like he desperately wants Kabuto to shove him back in his stone coffin.

Tears well up in Izumi’s wide, brown eyes, overflowing to spill down her cheeks.

“I  _ hate  _ you!” she shrieks, before whirling around and running away.

When her sobs die away, the only sounds left are the various pained sounds of the injured.

“You can get back to sorting through these people for me,” Kabuto says, unable to fully suppress the amusement in his voice. 

Itachi manages to nod, and goes back to the task at hand- sorting out the allies from any infiltrators that might be trying to wreak havoc. Kabuto finishes up with the man he’s working on, and moves on to the next person.

Maybe a half hour passes before he’s interrupted yet again, this time by Sasuke.

“Did you need something?” Kabuto asks.

Sasuke doesn't acknowledge him.

“Itachi. We need to talk.”

“...It’s not really a good time,” Itachi replies, nearly too quietly to be heard.

“I don’t care,” Sasuke responds. “We’re doing it now. So follow me.”

Sasuke’s terse tone makes it clear it’s a demand, not a request. So Itachi relents, and follows his younger brother away.

Well. That guy’s just pissing everyone off today, isn’t he? 

Kabuto throws a sheet over the body of an unfortunate woman who’s just expired; then, his eyes turn to the tray of food that girl had left behind. His stomach makes a loud noise in protest of being neglected for so long.

He snags one of the onigiri off the tray and stuffs it into his mouth whole, barely chewing before swallowing it. Then he gets right back to work.

  
  
  
  



	4. Fractured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uchiha family blowout. Yahiko and Konan's unhappy reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW discussion of past sexual abuse

“Sasuke, what is this ab-”

“-Sit down.”

Sasuke’s curt tone of voice is so unlike what either Fugaku or Mikoto are used to that they freeze up in surprise.

“What are you-”

“-I said. Sit _. Down. _ ”

“Sasuke,” Itachi mutters, “don’t talk to them like-”

“You too!” Sasuke barks, pointing an accusatory finger at his older brother. “The three of you are gonna sit down, shut up and fucking  _ listen  _ to me for once!”

Finally, they comply, sitting at the small table that serves as this bare concrete room’s only furnishing. Six pairs of eyes turn toward him.

Sasuke slams the door shut, then starts pacing the floor like an agitated tiger. He digs blunt fingernails into his scalp, scratching violently like he’s trying to rattle his jumbled thoughts back into place. the action could sort out his jumbled thoughts.

“...We’re listening, Sasuke,” Mikoto prompts, softly.

The boy’s voice cracks a half-octave when he next manages to speak.

“How could you?”

Mikoto and Fugaku glance at each other, then at Sasuke, looking puzzled.

“Sasuke, what do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Sasuke howls, rattling the whole room when his fist connects with the wall. “You know  _ damn  _ well what I mean! How could you let it happen?! How could you just stand by and let it happen?!”

“What are you  _ talking  _ about?!” Fugaku demands, fists balled up tightly. “Let  _ what  _ happen?!”

“With  _ him _ !” Sasuke shouts, pointing once again at Itachi. Itachi looks like he wants to melt into the floor and disappear. He turns his head away, bracing himself for what he knows is coming.

“We had no idea Itachi would be ordered to do what he did!” Fugaku insists. “How the hell could we have known the village would sink so low as to order us all dead?!”

“That’s not what I’m fucking talking about and you know it!” 

Sasuke’s teeth are clenched so tightly it’s a small miracle they don’t shatter.

“What I want to know is how you could live with yourselves sending your own son off to get raped!”

All the air evacuates the room immediately.  Both Fugaku and Mikoto’s eyes go wide enough to fall out of their heads.

“...the hell are you on about?” Fugaku asks, his voice low and deadly.

“Still gonna pretend you don’t know? That you didn’t let god knows how many people lay their filthy hands on  _ my  _ brother?!” 

Sasuke is roaring, practically feral. Mikoto clutches at her shirt like she can’t breathe; she turns toward her eldest son, horror written across her face.

“Itachi...Itachi, tell me that’s not true…”

Itachi can’t bring himself to look his mother in the eye. He presses a hand over his mouth, drawing ever further into himself.

“Itachi, tell me it’s not true!” Mikoto repeats, imploring, desperate, half rising out of her seat.

The silence is painful.

But, finally-

“...If I told you that, I’d be lying,” Itachi croaks.

Mikoto collapses back onto the floor. All the color drains out of Fugaku’s face.

“Cut the bullshit like you feel bad now!” Sasuke barks. “You let it happen! You sent him off like some sacrificial lamb because you didn’t give a fuck what happened to him!” 

“Sasuke, stop it!” Mikoto pleads. “We didn’t-”

“-Itachi, why didn’t you say anything?” Fugaku interrupts.

“ _ You are the pipeline that connects our clan and the village. You understand what that means, don’t you _ ?”

Fugaku leans back a bit, at the shock of hearing his own words echoed back to him.

“I had to maintain my standing with Danzo-sama and the others any way I could. No matter how unsavory I found it, I had to do what I could. That’s what you told me to do.”

“I didn’t mean- Itachi, how long did this go on for?”

Itachi finally manages to look at his parents; his expression is flat, and unreadable. His voice is as bleak and emotionless as his face.

“Do you remember that mission you made me skip Sasuke’s academy entrance ceremony for?”

Absentmindedly, Itachi starts picking at the skin of the back of his hand, until ashes start to flake off and re-form. Were he alive, he would be bleeding.

“Itachi...why didn’t you tell us?”

“I couldn’t.”

He wrings his hands like he wants to break his fingers.

“If word ever got out about what I’d done, the clan would turn their backs on me. How could they even think about standing with me, when I’d been reduced to nothing more than a cheap toy to be passed around between village elites? Me, who was expected to inherit our clan? Who was already so pathetic that everyone half expected me to die before I got that far? I didn’t expect anything less than to be abandoned if that ever came to light.”

A tinge of bitterness stains Itachi’s voice now. The corners of his mouth pull downwards, in a sort of half-hearted grimace. 

“Not that any of that ended up mattering. The clan all turned their backs on me anyway when they decided i’d killed Shisui. And besides-”

He digs his nails into his wrist now.

“You were too busy playing revolutionary to pay much mind to what was happening to me.”

His words stun both of his parents into silence again. Sasuke doesn't speak either, choosing instead to simmer in a quiet rage. Itachi slumps over like speaking so much is exhausting.

“I hated what happened. Of course I hated it- anyone would. But what else was I supposed to do? I was given my orders.  I couldn’t compromise my position. Whatever Danzo said, I had to comply. It’s what he wanted. What  _ you  _ wanted. I had to be the good soldier, the good son. The good heir. Speaking up would’ve ruined everything. So I kept quiet.”

He raises a hand up, fingertips brushing against his grayish lips.

“Keep your mouth shut. Don’t let anyone know. They can’t. Besides, what happens to me has never been important. It’s what’s always been expected of me. That’s always been my place, and I’ve always understood that.”

Mikoto reaches out like she wants to touch her son, to console him, but pulls her hand away halfway through the motion.

“Itachi- you know that’s not true-”

“I do? That’s news to me.”

He starts fiddling with his fingers, eyes fixed on them so he doesn't have to look at anyone’s faces.

“I was only temporary, after all. I was always temporary.”

“The hell does that mean?” Sasuke hisses.

“It means that the only reason I lived for as long as I did was because I had to survive until you were strong enough to not need anybody to protect you. That’s the one and only reason I didn’t put a knife in my gut the night I killed everyone else. I had to do whatever I could to make sure you were safe, just like I’d promised, until you were strong enough to do it yourself.”

Fugaku straightens up suddenly.

“Keep him safe? Is that what you were doing when you let Sasuke walk off with Orochimaru?”

Itachi scowls. Actually, properly scowls.

“That’s right. What about it?”

“Was that your idea of protecting him? Handing him off to someone who’d do the same shit you had done to you?!”

A disbelieving snort bursts out of Sasuke.

“What the fuck kinda nonsense are you spewing?” he scoffs.

Fugaku seems a bit taken aback.

“Orochimaru is- I mean, it’s not exactly a secret!” 

Sasuke’s handsome face is warped by an ugly sneer.

“I knew Itachi thought I was pathetic, but I didn’t know you guys did, too. You think I would’ve let him put his fucking hands on me? I would’ve killed him the second he tried.”

Both Fugaku and Mikoto look baffled.

“Of all the people in the world, you two should know not to trust the Konoha rumor mill,” Itachi says, annoyed. “Orochimaru is a lot of things, but that isn’t one of them.”

“How are you so sure?!”

Itachi barely suppresses rolling his eyes.

“Because I was in Akatsuki with him. I  _ knew  _ him. You think I would have allowed Sasuke to leave with him if there was any risk that he would be harmed? Don’t be ridiculous. I would’ve stepped in the second I felt he was in danger.”

“I didn’t fucking need you to step in, Itachi! I’m not a fucking child!”

“I’m aware of that. But you were back then. And with Sandaime dead I had to keep you away from Danzo. It was either him or Orochimaru, and if I had to pick, I knew at least that with Orochimaru you’d be out of Danzo's reach. And you were.” 

“...That’s a lot of trust to put in him,” Mikoto says, softly.

“It was only a matter of trusting him more than Danzo,” Itachi replies.

“And I suppose whatever _ I  _ would have wanted didn’t factor into your plans,” Sasuke growls. “Just like always.”

Itachi hangs his head. Then nods.

Sasuke runs a hand through his disheveled hair- an action which is mirrored by his father. Unlike his father, however, Sasuke lets out a laugh which is completely devoid of mirth.

“I don’t know why I expected anything different. From any of you.”

“Sasuke-”

“-If you treated your favorite kid that shittily I don’t know why I expected him to not turn out fucked up, too. Maybe I was better off with the both of you dead.”

He cocks his head to the side, taking on a faux-confident stance and a tight, joyless smile. It’s clear that, whatever he’d expected from this meeting, he hadn’t gotten it.

“You can ask Orochimaru himself if you wanna be sure he didn’t touch me. Not that you’d give a shit even if he did.”

He rolls his eyes, then turns around and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the entire room. His angry footsteps quickly fade away.

Fugaku stares down at his hands. Mikoto draws in on herself, silently starting to cry. Itachi closes his eyes, trying desperately to will himself out of existence. 

None of them say a word until-

“...I’m sorry.”

Itachi sounds so defeated, so broken-down and miserable. It breaks his parents’ hearts.

Because of course. Of  _ course  _ Itachi would blame himself for everything that happened. He’s been that way since he was young- always apologizing for things he couldn’t help. 

It was the same when he was young; Itachi would constantly apologize for falling ill, for letting on that he was in pain. Even though neither Fugaku nor Mikoto would have dreamed of scolding him for it. 

(as a matter of fact,  _ sorry  _ had been one of the first words Itachi had spoken.)

 

* * *

 

“Konan!”

The woman freezes in her tracks, her heart seized by that all-too familiar voice. 

That voice she’s grown so fond of over the years. That voice that had learned to speak with such confidence it was no wonder he’d been accepted as a god.

But that voice had, before, always been calm. Muted. Commanding. Now, the voice is unsure, and strangled with emotion.

Konan finds herself without the strength to turn around, afraid of the expression she’ll see on that face.

“Konan...Konan, it’s me, I’m back-”

The woman hugs her arms close to herself, trying to suppress her own emotions.

“-Koccha, I’m so sorry. I never meant for things to go so wrong, I never meant to leave you guys alone, I’m sorry, I fucked up, I’m so, so sorry-”

“-Don’t call me that.”

She can  _ feel  _ the way her words stun Yahiko.

“...Konan?”

“You can’t just come back after all these years and pretend everything is still the same as it was back then. We aren’t  _ like  _ that anymore. So stop it.”

Yahiko bites his lip- Konan knows he’s biting his lip, because that’s what Yahiko has always done when he’s upset.

“Konan...what happened while I was gone?”

Konan shakes her head.

“Everything went wrong,” is all she says.

An enormous clay bird swoops out of the sky, cutting through the humid air to come to rest on the ground.

“Yo, I’m ready!” Deidara calls out. The clay bird lays its wings out at an angle, like a ramp to be walked up.

“Ready for what?” Yahiko demands.

“Where is Kisame?” Konan asks, ignoring him.

“Off sulking  _ hn.  _ He said he’ll meet up with us later.”

“Fair enough.”

“Konan, where are you going?!” Yahiko insists, more adamantly this time.

“Back to Ame,” the woman finally answers. 

“So soon? We just got here!”

“If you’re back, I’ve got a feeling that our village will need me there to protect it,” Konan says, already walking up the bird’s giant wing.

“Cause of that salamander dude?” Deidara inquires, but all he gets in response is a dirty look.

“Come with us or don’t, Yahiko. I don’t care either way.”

“And make up your mind quick  _ hn _ ,” Deidara interjects. “I wanna get the fuck outta here- the humidity is making my hair frizzy.”

Begrudgingly, Yahiko climbs up to join his once-lover and this blond stranger on the great clay eagle. Deidara raises his hand up; the wings of the lay bird shift. In one swift motion, it rises up into the air, carrying this fraction of Akatsuki away.

“Are you okay leaving that girl behind?” Konan asks Deidara, one they’re well on their way away from Otogakure.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Deidara quips. “She’s nothing to me anymore. She was barely a friend to start with  _ hn _ .”

“Very well then.”

Yahiko sits down and hugs his knees to his chest (his legs got so long out of nowhere). He feels hopeless, and more than a little useless.

Konan has never talked to him that way before. She’s always had a warm word and a smile for him- but those seem long gone now.

But she’s still the same Konan he’d known. She still carries herself with that same quiet grace. She’s still just as breathtakingly beautiful as she was the day they’d first met- because even soaked to the skin, caked in mud and half starved to death, she’d been so very beautiful.

He’d loved her from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her. But from how she’s treating him now, he knows she no longer reciprocates that affection.

And that breaks something inside him.

When he’d awoken in a village he’d never been, seen people he’d never met, he’d been grateful at first. Now an increasing part of him is wishing he’d just stayed dead.

 


	5. Tear Out your Throat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's back. Y'all will know who.  
> Also setting up Sanni Ot3 stuff. And SakuSasu prolly. Also Kisame and Itachi aren't getting along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: graphic descriptions of a walking, talking corpse.  
> Content Advisory 2, Electric Boogaloo: trans talk, Jiraiya being embarrassing.

Sakura doesn't even glance up to acknowledge that Sasuke has entered the same space as her. Instead her green eyes remain fixed stalwartly forward, her body moving in a well-practiced rhythm.

Her petal pink hair is pulled back into a short ponytail that juts out of the back of her head, her chest heaving with labored breaths while she spars with one of the handful of mobile dummies that litter the vast training complex.

(When did she get so muscular? He certainly doesn't remember her being near this strong.)

Sasuke watches her for awhile, silently following her sharp, precise movements with his eyes. He waits patiently for her to finally decide to acknowledge him.

She taps the seal on the back of the training dummy, instantly making it go still.

“What do you want?” she growls, fiddling with the strap of her black sports bra so she doesn’t have to look at him.

“To train,” Sasuke answers. “What else?”

Sakura huffs, then turns her back on him. She grabs a towel off a low shelf to wipe the sweat from the back of her neck.

“Then pick out a dummy and get on with it.”

Sasuke looks over at one of the dummies, then back at Sakura.

“The dummies aren’t really all that great to train on,” he muses, tugging his shirt off and casting it aside carelessly. “Their movements are too predictable- not much good if you’re serious about fighting.”

Sakura puts her hands on her hips and turns back around.

“What, you wanna fight?” She asks.

“It’s just sparring. Is that a problem?” Sasuke replies, raising an eyebrow at her.

(He has to divert his eyes so she doesn't catch him staring at the well-defined muscles of her midriff because honestly _where did that come from?!_ )

Sakura folds her arms and glowers at him.

“Well, I guess you’re not going away, so fine,” she relents, at last.

They take their stances across from each other.

“Just taijutsu,” he clarifies, though he’s not sure if he’s telling her or himself.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get on with it.”

They lunge at each other in the same instant. And in the next, Sasuke finds himself flung backward into one of the thick rubber mats lining the walls. He tries not to let that slow him down, and throws a punch of his own at her.

His fist connects with her forearm, then her knee connects with his chest, knocking the air clean out of him.

_When the actual fuck did she get this strong?_

He stumbles backward, landing on his backside.

“Come on, what were you even _doing_ when you ditched us for three years?” She quips. “That dummy puts up a better fight than you.”

“I didn’t ditch-”

“Cut the bullshit, Sasuke! You ran away to Orochimaru and left us behind! If that’s not ditching then I’m the fucking Hokage!”

Sasuke’s brow furrows like he’s confused. Sakura goes red in the face from anger.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be upset? Or that Naruto or Sensei wouldn’t be upset? Or did you just not care about who you hurt when you ran off because your fuckig ego got bruised?!”

Sasuke splutters, unable to articulate a proper response.

“Did it ever cross your tiny mind that maybe, just fucking maybe, there are people in the world who aren’t out to fucking get you?! Sakura rages, storming around the room to vent her pent-up frustration. “That maybe there are people who wanna help you even though you’re a colossal fucking moron?!

Sasuke remains stubbornly silent. Sakura is flooded with the desire to hit him again.

“Get up,” she snaps at him. “We’re not done yet.”

No sooner is Sasuke back on his feet, than he’s ducking to dodge another crushing blow.

“You jackass!” she howls, raining down blows on him nearly faster than Sasuke can block them. “You idiot! You absolute fucking _tool!_ ”

(Sasuke is pretty sure he’s not the only reason she’s angry.)

Through a small miracle, he’s able to grab her fist out of the air before it connects with his face.

“Yelling at me isn’t gonna bring your mom and dad back,” he says, flatly.

Judging by the fact that the next thing Sakura does is throw him clear over her shoulder across the room, that was the wrong thing to say.

“How the fuck you’ve survived this long with all that hot air between your ears I’ll never know!” She snarls.

Sasuke rolls off his back onto his knees, glaring daggers at her.

“Oh, did I hurt your little feelings?” Sakura sneers. “Go cry to mommy about it- you have her back now, remember?”

It’s Sasuke’s temper’s turn to flare up. With a growl, he flings himself back onto his feet and throws himself at her. Her bones creak dangerously under the blows she barely manages to block.

“What?! You think I _like_ feeling this way all the time?!” he demands, never pausing in his assault. “You think I like being pissed off and on edge every _goddamned_ day?! Because I get fucking _tired_ of it! You think if I had some magic off switch for it that I wouldn’t fucking flip it?!”

“How would any of us know when you never _told_ us anything?!” Sakura retorts, striking back at him with equal ferocity.

“It wasn’t any of your business!”

“Weren’t we friends?! Of course it was my business! I wanted to fucking help you!”

“So what, you expected me to just spill my fucking guts to you so you could know just how pathetic I am?! That all I am is a fucking scared little brat who just pretends he’s hot shit?!”

Sakura pauses from surprise just long enough for Sasuke to kick her in the side and send her crumbling to the ground.

Groaning in pain, she looks up at him, past the bruises blooming across his bare torso and up toward his face.

He runs a hand through his dark hair, blowing a great gust of air out his nose.

“You’re pissed off,” he says. “I know that. I’d be worried if you weren’t. But if you need a shoulder to cry on and tell you everything’s alright, you’ll have to find someone else. Because I won’t lie to you like that.”

Sakura turns those bright green eyes (red-rimmed from crying her heart out) away from him, biting her lip and trying to be calm.

“...What do you do?” she asks, her voice rough and breaking. “It hurts so much-”

“You get back up and keep moving forward. Because you don’t have another choice.”

Sasuke holds his hand out toward her. She takes it, and allows him to help her to her feet.

They stay still like that for a few precious moments, neither quite wanting to let the other go.

“...you done kicking my ass?” Sasuke finally asks, a little sheepishly.

“Eh? I-”

(God damn it. After all these years, he can still make her blush?!)

“Really?”

Sasuke sounds annoyed as he relinquishes her hand.

“You have terrible taste in guys.”

His tone is so deadpan that she can’t tell if he’s teasing or not.

They sit down along the north wall, grabbing bottles of water from the basket in the corner. After a few minutes, Sasuke breaks the silence between them.

“By the way-” he says, hesitation nearly stealing his nerve. “When did you uh- I mean-”

He makes a gesture in her general direction.

“-When did all this happen?”

Sakura shrugs.

“After you left, I decided I wasn’t okay with standing on the sidelines anymore. The only way to make sure of that was to get strong enough to keep up. So that’s what I did.”

“Hn.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I didn’t say I thought it was bad.”

He doesn't give any sort of indication that he’s joking; he just fiddles with his water bottle, oblivious to how deep red Sakura’s face has gotten.

“You kept your hair short, too. I used to wonder if you’d grow it back out.”

“Huh?”

Sakura fidgets with the locks of pink hair that have fallen out of her ponytail.

“Yeah, it got in the way, so I just decided it was easier. I know it looks bad-”

“I was gonna say I like it better this way.”

Sakura is beginning to wonder if it’s possible for one’s face to light on fire from sheer embarrassment.

“You mean it?” she can’t help asking.

Sasuke shrugs.

“I think it suits you better. Besides, long hair always seemed like a pain in the ass- I never knew how my mom or Itachi dealt with it.”

Were it any other time, Sakura might smile at him. Instead, she shakes her head.

“You’re really annoying,” she grumbles.

Sasuke snorts.

“Yeah- sorry I ever said that,” he mutters. “That was stupid of me to say.”

Sakura turns her head toward him- and finds his face uncomfortably close to hers.

“I was a stupid kid though. I guess it’d be normal for me to say stupid shit like that.”

Half of Sakura wants to shove him away. Ask if he’s ever heard of personal space. The other half, however-

She finds herself a bit lightheaded, nearly hypnotized by the seemingly endless depths of his black eyes, by the raccoon-rings beneath them that betray his exhaustion. His breath is warm and tantalizing, escaping in anxious bursts past his chapped lips.

(Sasuke really should take better care of himself.)

“What are you doing?” Sakura finally manages to ask.

“I have no idea,” Sasuke admits, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder.

“Well it’s weird,” Sakura warns, though she makes no move to stop him.

“Everything’s weird right now,” Sasuke reminds her. “You guys got kicked out of your village and I just found out my parents are kind of horrible people. And- you know- they’re back from the fucking dead. And we’re sitting underground in some village Orochimaru built to be petty.This isn’t the weirdest thing that’s happened so far.”

His dark eyes follow the path of his hand, as his fingertips trace along the outlines of the muscles in her arm, like they’re the most fascinating thing in the world.

“...What do you want?” Sakura demands, her body tensing up in distrust.

“I don’t know. Some sort of proof this is real, I guess. Or maybe I’m just…”

His voice trails off. He presses his forehead against hers- a gesture of trust she probably hasn’t earned.

“...I’m scared, alright?” he admits, at last. “Maybe I just want someone to lie to me that everything will be okay. Hell knows I can’t tell myself.”

Even though it’s probably a bad idea, Sakura reaches up and works her fingers into tangled black hair.

“You can’t lie to me, so I can’t lie to you,” she says, a mournful note in her voice. “I have no idea what’s gonna happen now. You think I’m not scared too?”

He opens his mouth like he’s about to answer her, but she doesn't let him.

Against any sort of common sense, against every rational part of her being that’s screaming at her, she kisses him.

His lips are as dry as they look, but they’re warm, and softer than she’d expected.  His hand tightens around her upper arm, and for a moment she wonders if he’ll pull away. But he doesn't. He kisses her back- an awkward, clumsy sort of kiss- but he kisses her back.

(Well. This certainly isn’t how she’d imagined her first kiss with Sasuke would go, back when she was young and starstruck. But this will do.)

“-Sorry,” she mumbles, when they finally part for air.

“For what?”

Sasuke cocks an eyebrow at her.

“Was it that bad?” he asks.

“What?! No! I just-”

She shakes her head.

“I don’t know what got into me. I shouldn’t have-”

“-It wasn’t bad.”

Sakura gets back on her feet, guilt and embarrassment crashing over her.

“No-no I shouldn’t- _we_ shouldn’t- it’s not-”

“Hey, hold on-”

Sakura bolts out of the room, not paying him any mind.

Sasuke stays seated on the floor, unsure whether to be offended or just hurt; as well as being unsure what sparked this needy outburst inside him.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“...I’m losing my mind,” he grumbles to himself.

 

* * *

 

“What are we doing now?”

Jiraiya and Tsunade trail just behind Orochimaru, following him down a hallway that stretches on seemingly forever.

“A meeting,” Orochimaru replies, returning his sleeves to their proper position.

“A meeting for-”

“Planning, Jiraiya. It’s a war- we can’t run in blind.”

“...Oh. Right.”

“Do we know how many-” Tsunade hesitates, not wanting to ask. “-What’s the casualty count?”

“Two dozen Uchiha, thirty-six Nara, thirteen from the Hyuuga main family, fifty Akimichi, fifteen Aburame, twenty-three Inuzuka along with forty of their dogs, twenty-nine Yamanaka, and three hundred eighty-six from smaller families. From what we’ve been able to gather, at least.”

Orochimaru rattles off the numbers clinically, already numb to the slaughter.

“What about the Branch family?” Jiraiya asks.

“They’ve decided this is their chance to get revenge on the main family. We’ve only got one from their ranks.”

Jiraiya massages his temples, and groans.

“Fun.”

“We’ll deal with that when we come to it,” Tsunade says.

A few heartbeats of awkward silence passes between the three of them. Then, Jiraiya voices something that’s been weighing heavily on his mind for awhile now.

“Maru?”

“Hm?”

“I was just wondering-”

He fumbles for the right words, not wanting to offend his old teammate.

“I mean- even when we were kids, I wondered-”

(Fuck. He feels like an idiot right now.)

“-You’re not a guy, are you?”

(yep. He definitely _is_ an idiot.)

Tsunade’s palm connects with her forehead from the secondhand embarrassment.  Orochimaru stops dead in his tracks, and for a second Jiraiya wonders if this is how he’s gonna die (again).

Orochimaru’s shoulders start to shake. A strange sound starts low in his throat, building up until Jiraiya can recognize what it is.

“W-why are you laughing?! Jiraiya splutters.

“I was wondering when you’d get around to asking,” Orochimaru cackles, wiping away a tear of mirth.

“Huh-”

“Your assumption is accurate, Jiraiya. I’m not.”

Tsunade furrows her brow in surprise. Jiraiya takes a moment to be relieved that he didn’t piss his former friend off.

“So uh- are you a-”

“-No, I don’t believe calling me a woman would be accurate, either. Although, the distinction has always felt rather arbitrary to me, anyway.”

Tsunade folds her arms while she mulls over this new information. She and Jiraiya exchange a quick look.

“I don’t see how that changes anything,” she says, with a shrug.

Orochimaru half smiles.

“I’m glad it doesn't.”

Jiraiya’s head is still swimming with questions when they resume walking.

“But what do we do?” he asks. “I mean- do you want us to tell people? Do we call you something different? What are you, exactly?”

Another little giggle escapes his companion.

“Orochimaru is the name I’ve built my reputation off. It’s the name my mother gave me, and it’s the name you may continue to call me,” is the reply. “Whether you share this information with anyone else is no concern of mine- as for what I am-”

Orochimaru waves his hand dismissively.

“-It’s neither here nor there. I’m still myself, and that’s all that matters as far as you’re concerned.”

“We’ll worry about it later,” Tsunade reminds them. “For now-”

“-Hold on- first-”

Quickly, Orochimaru forms a few hand seals, a shadow clone bursting to life beside him.

“You two might want to send one too.”

“Wha-”

“Just trust me.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Tsunade and Jiraiya summon up shadow clones of their own. Their dopplegangers follow Orochimaru’s away.

“Where are they-”

“I’ll explain later.”

With that, they finally arrive at the enormous meeting area they’ve been walking toward. Lit candles occupy each of the tables littering the space- one for each of the dead, casting everything in a eerie glow. The heads and elders of each of Konoha’s major clans are speaking quietly amongst themselves, their faces grim and desolate. The handful of others stand silently, each lost in their own thoughts.

The room falls deathly quiet the moment the three of them enter.

Orochimaru makes no snide remarks about the sober faces of everyone in front of them.

“Well? Got any bright ideas?”

He turns gold eyes over to acknowledge the Inuzuka matriarch.

“A few. But I supposed it’d be better to bring them up for discussion first.”

“I know everyone is angry,” Tsunade chimes in. “But we have lower numbers and fewer resources to work with. We have to be careful going forward or we’re just gonna get our asses handed to us.”

Folding her arms once more, Tsunade bows her head solemnly.

“I’m sorry it came to this. If there was any other way of resolving the situation, I’d do that in a heartbeat instead of risking all of your lives. As it stands, it looks like that’s a luxury we can’t afford.”

A wave of murmuring briefly sweeps through the room.

“How do we know we can trust _him_?” Yamanaka Inoichi demands, jerking his head toward Orochimaru.

Tsunade answers before Jiraiya can retort.

“You don’t have to trust him. Trust _me._ If anything goes wrong, I’ll accept full responsibility for it.”

This seems to satisfy the man. He nods, once, and falls silent once again.

From somewhere toward the back, Uchiha Fugaku speaks up.

(he looks utterly exhausted, and sounds every bit as tired as he looks.)

“About these plans, then.”

“Of course, Captain.”

Orochimaru strides toward the center of the room, carrying himself with an easy confidence that Jiraiya envies.

“We’ve got a lot to go over and not a lot of time, so let’s get started, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

Itachi doesn't particularly mind being sent outside on his own to play guard dog. The sounds of the thick jungle around him is soothing on his ragged nerves, and the solitude is a welcome change of pace.

At least, he _was_ alone up until now.

He doesn't have to see him to know it’s Kisame. He’s intimately familiar with the way he moves- intimately familiar with his chakra signature. He’d know it were him even if he were still blind.

“Still following the scrawny guy’s orders, huh? Seems just like you, Itachi.”

(Itachi won’t say it aloud, but dropping the _-san_ at the end of his name hurts more than anything else Kisame could do to him.)

“Pretending to be mute? That shouldn’t surprise me either.”

Itachi sighs, realizing he should probably say _something._

“...Why didn’t you leave with Konan?” he asks.

“I didn’t really see the point. Besides, this is where the fun’s gonna be, isn’t it?”

Kisame might not be being honest with Itachi,  but Itachi decides to not question it.

“It’ll be safer for you if you go,” he says, instead of questioning. A laugh totally unlike the boisterous, barking laugh Itachi is familiar with bursts from his former partner.

“You really think I can’t handle myself without _you,_ Itachi? Give me some credit- not everyone’s that dumbass little brother of yours.”

“Don’t speak of Sasuke that way,” Itachi snaps, before he can stop himself. He whirls around to face Kisame’s mirthless grin.

“I know how it is, Itachi. Everything was always about him. I was just a distraction to pass the time til you could go off and let the brat gut you for spare parts, right? How else was he gonna make it in the world all on his own? He’s all you ever gave a shit about.”

“It wasn’t _like_ that!”

“Even when you’re dead you can’t stop fucking _lying!_ ”

Kisame grabs Itachi’s wrist to keep him from backing away.

“God, why I ever fell for a guy like you I’ll never figure out. You’re pathetic.”

Itachi bows his head, _almost_ managing to look sufficiently contrite.

“I’m-”

“-Sorry, Itachi? We’re a little past that, don’t you think?”

“Please just leave me alone,” Itachi implores, trying vainly to tug his arm away. “If you’re done with me, just be done with me.”

Kisame towers over him, making Itachi shrink back a small fraction.

“What, so you can run away again? You don’t deserve that!”

“I can’t take back what I did! What do you possibly hope to gain by torturing me?!”

“If you don’t like it, why don’t you just burn me alive with those eyes of yours? Or torture me right back with a Tsukuyomi? You could hurt me right back if you wanted.”

“I don’t want to hurt you-”

“Oh yeah? Or are you just too much of a coward to try?”

Itachi shakes his head, desperately trying to get his former partner to calm down.

(This isn’t the Kisame he knows. It’s not the Kisame he trusts.)

“Kisame, I l-”

His confession doesn't get the chance to leave his lips.

A strange sound emanates from some unseen point. A horrid cross between a snarl, a wheeze, and a moan. It draws the men’s attention toward it; Kisame, at last, releases Itachi’s wrist.

Itachi approaches the source of the noise, the tomoe of the Sharingan giving away to the pinwheel design of the Mangekyou.

He holds a kunai up, stepping carefully forward.

The foliage rustles, then parts. That horrid, rattling breathing grows louder.

A pair of jaundiced, bloodshot purple eyes peer out at him from behind matted, filthy, tangled hair that had once been silver. Most of the skin on the left side of his face and chest is gone, exposing teeth and fascia and muscle tissue.

The man- the _creature-_ pulls himself laboriously forward, dragging the useless mass of tendons and bone that were supposed to be his left leg behind him.

Itachi recoils in horror.

“Impossible-”

The mass of blood and infection opens what’s left of his mouth; Itachi desperately wishes he could still vomit when a few unidentifiable, squirming bugs fall out of it.

He looks toward his former partner, but Kisame looks just as disgusted and helpless as Itachi feels.

“Ka...Kaku…where...”

“Fuck,” Kisame mutters. “He can still-”

The thing cocks his head, pus pouring from a poorly-mended gash in his neck. He looks at Kisame and Itachi like he’s confused.

“W...where’s Kaku…zu?”

Itachi shuts his eyes, as though that could block out what’s happening.

This _thing_ that’s vaguely shaped like Hidan grabs Itachi by the front of his cloak, with the arm that’s not half stripped down to the bone, dragging him in so close that Itachi can see the holes riddling his remaining teeth.

“Ka...kuzu,” he wheezes. “Where…?”

“...Dead,” Itachi manages to choke out. “Kakuzu is dead.”

“Eh? Kaku…”

Hidan hacks up chunks of bloody tissue that spray across Itachi’s ashen face; then, he makes some noise approximating a wail- the best he can do when his lungs are riddled with decay.

Gingerly, Itachi puts a hand on Hidan’s wrist, lifting it off himself as delicately as he can.

“The fuck happened to you?” Kisame groans; despite having lived a life drenched in blood and death, even he’s noticeably green around the gills, disgusted by the state of their former companion.

Itachi grabs the nape of Hidan’s neck, fingers sinking into gangrenous flesh, getting those cloudy eyes to focus on his. Trying to pry into his memory.

“Well?” Kisame demands.

“I don’t- it’s all white noise. I can’t get anything to focus,” Itachi replies, through gritted teeth. “His mind’s in as bad a shape as his body.”

“So we’ll get someone to fix him,” Kisame snarls. “And sort out what happened!”

The sound of a heavy stone door slamming startles all of them.

“What a drag,” they hear, getting Hidan to snap to attention. “Hey! Corpse guy! Glasses told me to send you back in- I’m takin’ over from here!”

Hidan manages a few shambling steps forward, froth building up at the corners of his mouth. His wheezing turns into more of a growl, his eyes finally coming fully into focus.

“...Kill…”

“Woah, easy there-”

Kisame’s halfhearted attempts to pacify him do nothing to stifle Hidan’s rage.

“...Kill him...Kill...him…”

“Hey, easy-”

Hidan lunges forward with a burst of speed neither of them thought him capable of.

“C’mon, Crowface. Four-eyes needs you downstairs and he said to be quick about it!”

Neither Itachi nor Kisame breaks out of their stupor quickly enough to grab Hidan before he snags the back of Nara Shikamaru’s coat.

“What the hell?!”

The boy jerks backward, shoving the rotted corpse away from him with a sharp kick to the gut that sends Hidan’s innards spilling out.

“Kill you!” Hidan hisses, undeterred by something as trivial as his intestines on the ground. “Kill you kill you killyou _killyou_!”

Through the fog of jumbled memories from Hidan's mind, a few words echo clearly in Itachi's head.

**_"Even if I'm left with nothing but my fuckin' head- I'll escape somehow! And when I do I'm gonna find you and bite out your fuckin' throat!"_ **

Shikamaru only freezes up for a moment, but that moment is more than enough. Hidan grabs him, sinking rotted, breaking teeth into the meat of his forearm.

Others are drawn outside when they hear the boy scream.


	6. Bite Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karin and Shisui are awkwardly adorable together. Shikamaru finds his current predicament less than ideal. Tsunade and Orochimaru do some- uh- bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW WARNING- the last segment of this chapter contains sexytimes. You have been warned.

“Bite me.”

“Eh?”

Karin huffs in annoyance, rolling up her shirt sleeve and holding her arm out.

“You heard me, dumbass. Bite me.”

Shisui pulls a rather unflattering face.

“Uh- shouldn’t we at least like, go out to dinner first?” 

It’s half a joke, half serious. Karin scowls, growing increasingly frustrated.

“Just do it already! It’ll make sense then!”

Shisui still looks skeptical.

“Look- do you wanna get those bandages off or what?” Karin demands. 

“Yeah, but I don’t get how biting you is gonna-”

“Just- trust me, okay? It’s fine.”

Finally, Shisui shrugs.

“If you say so-”

Karin groans when he bites down, biting her lip to stifle the sound. She holds his head fast with her free hand, counting down the seconds til she’s pretty sure he’s safe to let him go.

“Okay, what just-”

Shisui shakes his head.

“I feel- I mean- what did that-”

To answer him, Karin tugs the bandages off his face, allowing him to open his eye. He flinches when the light hits it for the first time.

“-Holy shit.”

“I told you.”

Shisui lets out a surprised half-laugh.

“...I was right,” he says, after a moment.

“Right about what?”

“Sasuke’s got good taste in girls. You’re cute.”

Karin promptly turns as red as her hair, a scandalized squeak escaping her when she whirls around to face away from him.

“Don’t say things like that, you idiot!” 

“Aww, your face looks like a lil tomato when it goes red like that!”

“Cut it  _ out _ !”

“- _ There  _ you are! You shouldn’t be wandering off like that!”

Shisui goes stiff.

“Uh- sorry, mom. I was just uh-”

Morikawa shakes her head in exasperation.

“You need to be laying down, not wandering ar-”

She trails off, finally noticing the scene in front of her.

“How- when did-”

Karin hides her arms behind her back to obscure the bloody bite on her wrist.

“I’m a medic,” she half-lies. “I thought it was important to get him back up and about as soon as possible, so-”

She doesn't know how to finish that sentence, so she doesn't. Morikawa seems puzzled, but drops the matter.

“Well. I’m glad my son can see me again.”

Shisui smiles, but it’s a cold, hollow sort of smile that doesn't belong on that bright, friendly face.

“I’m glad I’ll be able to see the look on Danzo’s fucking face when I snap his fucking neck.”

That cold-blooded, steely-eyed glare must be an Uchiha thing, Karin decides, when Morikawa mirrors her son’s expression.

“You’ll have to beat me to him,” the woman replies, arms crossed.

"Just try to keep up with me, mom. Maybe you'll get to watch."

(Karin can’t decide if that look is attractive or not. Or whether she wants to run away from Shisui or draw in a bit closer.)

 

* * *

“What the fuck is going on?!”

It’s difficult to think in the chaos, with Shikamaru’s screaming being joined by at least a dozen others.

Itachi and Kisame manage to pry Hidan off (what’s left of him, anyway), but he does manage to take a chunk of Shikamaru’s arm with him. The boy staggers backward, his face as pale as the whites of his eyes that are visible all around.

“He bit me-”

“Son!” Shikaku yells, sprinting toward him.

“Shikamaru!” Asuma, Chouji and Ino cry out in unison, hot on his heels. 

Asuma and Shikaku flank the boy on either side, steadying him before he can fall.

“H-he bit me,” Shikamaru stammers in disbelief. “H-he fucking bit me-”

Hidan breaks free of Kisame’s grip, turning his anger onto Itachi instead. Howling in rage, he tears into Itachi’s face and neck, sending ashes pouring in all directions. Itachi keeps his grip on Hidan, not so much as flinching as the man tries to rip him to shreds.

“Let go of him!”

Mikoto barrels in like a woman possessed, throwing Hidan a good ten meters away in her rage. Itachi has to restrain her instead, when she draws a sword to and tries to lunge for him.

“I’m fine,” Itachi tells her. “He can’t hurt me.”

Mikoto splutters in confused indignance, but can’t form the words to argue with her son. Itachi pushes her away, walking past the people desperate to stop Shikamaru from bleeding, toward Hidan, who’s thrashing around on the ground, getting tangled up in his own entrails the way a kitten gets tangled up in yarn.

“Why not just knock him out with a genjutsu?” Kisame snarks. “Isn’t that your favorite trick?”

“I’m trying,” Itachi huffs, brow furrowed as he stares down at Hidan. “It isn’t working.”

“How the hell can it not work?”

Itachi gives Kisame a look like what the man just said was the stupidest thing he’s ever heard.

“Because there isn’t enough of his mind left for a genjutsu to work.”

He kneels down, brushing filthy, matted hair out of Hidan’s face. Hidan tries and fails to bite Itachi’s fingers off.

“...Kakuzu always said you didn’t have a brain.” 

Itachi’s tone is so flat that it takes a good three seconds before anyone registers that he’s joking.

“Is this  _ really  _ the time for that?!” Asuma snaps, draping Shikamaru’s unwounded arm over his shoulder, while Shikaku supports him from the other side.

Itachi doesn't respond. Asuma shakes his head in disbelief.

“Run ahead and get my mom,” he orders his other two students. “He needs looked at like, right fucking now.”

Ino and Chouji obey, running as fast as their legs will take them. Kakashi, Yamato, Gai, and Mikoto stay behind while the others follow.

“How did he get out?” Gai ponders aloud. “Didn’t Shikamaru say he was at least three meters under? How did he dig himself out if he was blown to pieces?”

“He didn’t,” Itachi answers, gingerly lifting Hidan’s arm and looking it over.

“You seem awfully sure of that,” Kakashi points out. But Kisame seems to be following his old parter’s train of thought.

“Even if he’d managed to find his way back up, he’d still need someone to put him back together,” he says. “Kakuzu was always having to fix him up after he’d done something stupid and lost an arm or something.”

“So what, you’re saying someone dug him back up and threw him back together?” Even under the mask, one could see Kakashi’s nose scrunch up in disgust. “They sure did a shitty job of it.”

The wheels in Itachi’s head are turning furiously. Yamato binds Hidan up with thick branches of wood, finally getting him to keep still.

“-The medics in Konoha are probably swamped with casualties,” he says. “Any decent one probably has their hands full with injured people. Whoever Danzo would have had on hand to do the job would’ve probably been a pretty bad medic, as well as being in a hurry.”

“What, you’re saying Danzo dug him up and sicced him on us?” 

Yamato sounds skeptical. Itachi’s voice holds no hint of doubt.

“The first thing Hidan would do would be to try to get revenge on the person who buried him. All I’m unsure of is how he was even able to find him.”

Mikoto puts her hands on her hips, finally gathering herself.

“Well, what do we do with him?” she demands, nudging his snarling form with her foot.

“Well,  _ obviously  _ he needs medical help,” Kisame growls. “So he comes back around and can tell us what the hell happened.”

“-I’m more concerned about whether he has any sort of trackers on him,” Itachi adds.

“Of course you would be. You never liked him to start with.”

“This isn’t the time for this conversation, Kisame.”

“What, are you gonna pretend you suddenly care what happens to him?”

Itachi stands up and starts to head back inside, pretending as though Kisame hasn’t spoken.

“Alright, up ya go,” Yamato mutters, manipulating Hidan into a standing position. Hidan howls and snaps at him, but Yamato remains unruffled.

“Do you think there’s still- I mean, could anyone try to turn the lights back on in there, y’know what I’m saying?”

Itachi ponders this for a bit.

“...If anyone had a chance, it would be Deidara,” he answers.

“What makes you so sure?” Kakashi asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Besides Kakuzu, he was the one in Akatsuki Hidan was closest to,” Itachi elaborates.

“How so?”

“They were fuckbuddies,” Kisame answers. “That’s pretty much all there is to it.”

Itachi scowls at Kisame, but doesn't berate him.

“What I’m getting at is if you want to see how much of Hidan is still Hidan, he’s the one who’d bring it out. But right now it seems like most of him is gone.”

Kakashi nods his understanding.

“Great. So he’s here, and Deidara’s in Ame. Convenient.”

Kakashi has barely finished the sentence, when a flock of crows materializes seemingly from nowhere. They take off in the direction of Amegakure, three dozen crimson eyes flashing in the dim twilight.

“We’ll bring him back here.”

Mikoto’s brow knits in concern. But whatever’s on her mind, she doesn't give a voice to it. Hidan continues to thrash around and moan.

“Kakuzu-” he manages to choke out, sounding thoroughly defeated.

It would be pitiful, were it anyone else.

 

Asuma and Shikaku’s heads snap up in unison when Tsunade, Biwako and Kabuto finally re-emerge.

“Well, he won’t lose his arm,” Biwako says, shaking her head. 

“It’s annoying to have to go through so many of our antibiotics already though,” Kabuto grumbles, fingers drumming against his hips. 

“Less annoying than the kid dying from septic shock,” Tsunade chastises him.

(she hopes nobody catches that her fists are clenched to mask her shaking hands.)

“And what about our-uh- new friend?” Shikaku asks, hesitantly.

“Orochimaru is looking at him,” Tsunade answers. “Then we’ll decide what to do with him.”

“What’s there to decide?!” Shikaku demands, leaping to his feet. “He tried to kill my son!”

“He uh-  not that it’s a contest, but he  _ succeeded  _ in killing me,” Asuma chimes in, sheepishly. “I’m not sure keeping him around at all is a good idea.”

“Well what can we do with a guy that can’t be killed?!” Tsunade huffs. “Shikamaru had him buried ten feet under for  _ months _ and he’s still- well, his body is still working, at least.”

“...Itachi wants us to wait until Deidara can come back,” Kakashi finally decides to say. “To see if it brings him back to himself.”

“What the fuck for?!” 

Asuma goes rather pale from fear at the thought of Hidan returning to how he’d been.

“Because if we can get him talking, we can maybe find out if it really was Konoha that sent him.”

“Let’s just get a Yamanaka for that!” Shikaku insists. “We don’t need to wait for anything!”

Kakashi sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Fine, we’ll try that. But if it doesn't work we have a plan B.”

Shikaku seems to accept this.

“Be damn sure he stays away from my boy.”

“Of course.” 

He goes in to be with his son, and everyone else scatters.

  
  


“How’s he looking?”

Orochimaru takes a step back to look over his handiwork, with a small, satisfied smile.

“He’s properly in one piece, anyway,” he answers. “Sedating him was the hard part.”

“I’m surprised you found a vein in good enough shape to do the IV,” Tsunade remarks, sounding almost impressed.

Orochimaru hums softly in acknowledgement.

Tsunade looks over the man on the gurney in front of them, now neatly stitched up and bandaged.

“So, what do you think are the odds he comes back around to himself?” 

“Funny enough, I’ve never dealt with an immortal driven mad from being buried alive before- so I couldn’t tell you.”

Tsunade returns Orochimaru’s sarcasm with a punch to the shoulder.

“You don’t have to be such a smartass about it!” 

“And  _ you  _ don’t have to be quite so violent,” Orochimaru returns, rubbing his sore arm.

“Stop being such a baby.”

Tsunade does a lap around the gurney.

“Well, what do you think the odds are Danzo’s the one who had him dug up?”

“That depends on the odds of Danzo knowing he’d been buried.”

“Good, unfortunately,” Tsunade answers. “He has access to all the mission reports and records- it wouldn’t take too long to look up, especially when he’s got a grudge.”

Orochimaru sighs.

“I suppose that means there was someone guiding him here,” he says. “Which means we’ll have to be careful.”

“I’ll send some people to smoke out the rats,” Tsunade assures him. “Whoever it is, we’ll find them.”

“Do what you like,” Orochimaru replies, even though she’s already leaving to do just that.

 

* * *

It must be at least three hours before Tsunade decides she wants to see Orochimaru again. Something’s been gnawing at the back of her mind, and she needs to ask him directly- to hell if he’s decided to go to bed.

She manages to track down his bedroom, opening the door without even bothering to knock.

First mistake.

When she walks in, the first thing she notices is that Orochimaru is stark naked. The second thing she notices is the way the low torchlight casts an eerie gold glow across his snow-white skin.

She curses, immediately averting her eyes, putting her hand in front of her face as a shield.

“Oh, come now, Tsunade- it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Well, he isn’t entirely wrong there. Neither of them had exactly been shy about getting undressed in front of each other- whether out of necessity on missions or just to go swimming in some secluded spring. So why is she so embarrassed now?

“Did you need something?” Orochimaru asks, trying to get her attention.

“I-”

She gathers herself, reminding herself why she came in here.

“Jiraiya told me.”

Orochimaru doesn't need to ask what Jiraiya has told her. He heaves a great sigh, which prompts her to look at him once again.

“ _ You _ never told me.”

“It would have only hurt you. I refused to add to your grief so soon after your fiance’s death.”

“I could’ve helped you-”

Orochimaru cuts her off by pressing a finger to his lips.

“-There was nothing to be done. All it would have accomplished was further making you feel as if you’d failed. I wouldn’t allow it. Besides, I had no intention of letting myself die.”

“And that’s why you’ve been stealing bodies.”

“More or less. Although I suppose I’ll have to put it on hold for the time being.”

A pause. Orochimaru makes no move to cover himself, completely unashamed.

“...What happens if you don’t switch in time?” Tsunade asks, hesitantly.

“I’m not sure,” Orochimaru answers, honestly. “Before, the body would eventually reject me, so I would merely die. But this body is technically mine, so-”

The gears in Tsunade’s brain start turning.

“-Is it going to come back?”

Her temper rises in her throat when she doesn't get an answer. She grabs his arm when he tries to step further away from her.

“Damn it, Orochimaru! Is it gonna come back?!”

Their eyes connect. His are uncertain, fear flashing in their gold depths, and she absolutely hates it.

“...I don’t know. Maybe.”

The fact that he’s so unsure troubles Tsunade deeply.

Orochimaru has always been sure. Always been the reliable one. To have him be uncertain hurts something inside her.

“Don’t say anything to Jiraiya.”

His voice is deadly serious once again.

“Why not?!” 

“There’s no reason to worry him when there’s nothing to be done if it happens. So please-”

He reaches up to wrap one of Tsunade’s pigtails around his hand.

“You’re the only one I trust with this. Please keep it between us.”

His fingers brush against the back of her neck, drawing a shiver from her.

“What are you doing?” 

Her demand comes out far less firmly than she meant it to. Orochimaru seems far too entranced to notice, anyway.

“...I hope he realized how lucky he was to have you.”

(He’s talking about Dan- she doesn't have to ask to know that.)

His voice is low, heavy with some unidentifiable emotion. His eyes wander over her like she’s the most interesting thing in the world.

His right hand joins his left in aimlessly wandering across her back.

Despite her better judgement, Tsunade allows hers to do the same.

His skin is warmer than she’d imagined. Softer. Free from the myriad scars that littered it in their youth.

“You’re trying to seduce me.” she deadpans.

“I am,” Orochimaru admits.

“Well,” Tsunade replies. “It’s working.”

“Good.”

One of Orochimaru’s hands caresses the back of her neck; the other cups her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I told myself I wouldn’t-”

“-Shut up.”

Perhaps she’s lost her mind, and that’s why she doesn't resist when he guides her to his bed. Why she doesn't shove him away when he kisses her.

There’s a hunger in the way he kisses her. A desperation in his wandering hands as they make hasty work of Tsunade’s clothing until she’s as naked as he is. He holds his breath when he parts her legs, as if that’s the only way he can contain himself. He settles himself between her thighs with no regard for how they could probably break him in two.

Because, really- though Tsunade hasn’t thought about it in ages- he really is so  _ small.  _ All wiry muscle and sharp, delicate bone, and a face that’s rounder and softer than she remembers. He’s built more like a dancer than a ninja, really. In that moment, Tsunade has never felt more keenly unfeminine by comparison.

It only lasts a moment, however. After all, how could one not feel feminine when their bed partner is lavishing their breasts with affection?

He teases a pert pink nipple with his tongue before latching on, mindful of his sharp canine teeth. His hand caresses the other with reverant, feather-light touches. Tsunade gasps, pressing herself against the headboard of the bed for leverage.

“D-don’t tease like that,” she half-scolds. Orochimaru laughs that low, melancholy laugh Tsunade missed so much.

“Why the rush, Ojou-san? We have all night.”

The nostalgic nickname brings a flush of warmth to Tsunade’s face. Orochimaru places a soft kiss on the valley between her breasts, then starts leaving a trail of them down her torso like he wants to map all the muscle with his mouth. Tsunade’s hands hover awkwardly in the air, unsure of where they should go.

(It’s been so long since she’s been in bed with anyone. Decades.)

Eventually, she settles for setting her hands on either side of Orochimaru’s head, urging it along its downward path.

Sharp teeth graze over the crest of her hip bone, eliciting a low moan of confused pleasure-pain. He runs his fingers along the lines of steely muscle hidden just beneath that deceptively soft skin. The tip of his nose grazes against the thatch of coarse hair between those powerful legs.

“So excited already,” he purrs. 

“Sh-shut up!”

Tsunade grabs fistfuls of Orochimaru’s dark hair and tugs.

“Put that big mouth of yours to work doing something useful, will ya?!”

Another laugh; this one sends soft vibrations up Tsunade’s spine.

“If you insist.”

Orochimaru bows his head like a worshipper at a holy altar.

And- if Tsunade were to picture heaven, she’d imagine this was it.

(Turns out that tongue of his is good for more than telling lies.)

“Fuck~” Tsunade groans, painted fingernails digging into his scalp- though if it hurts, Orochimaru doesn't say so.

He does  _ things  _ with his tongue that she’s pretty sure are forbidden. Reaches it into places an ordinary human tongue could never hope to reach.

Then again, Orochimaru is far from ordinary.

The knot of tension in her belly pulls tighter, tighter, until it snaps. She clamps her thighs down against Orochimaru’s head, her entire body rocked with the force of it.

When her legs finally release his head, Orochimaru looks up at her, wiping away the slick mess around his mouth with the back of his hand.

“That was quick,” he teases, pressing a quick kiss to the inside of her thigh. 

“Knock it off!” Tsunade retorts, hoping against hope he doesn't catch the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks.

“I’m glad. I was worried I was out of practice.”

He starts working his way back upward, trailing his tongue along her abdomen.

“I hope I didn’t tire you out, Ojou-san. We’re just getting started, after all.”

“I’m not that old!” Tsunade huffs, pretending to be offended.

Another low laugh rumbles in Orochimaru’s chest, while his fingers idly play with the sensitive flesh between her legs.

Tsunade is just about to demand he stop teasing and get on with it already, but a knock at the door startles them both.

“Orochimaru-sama!”

Orochimaru sucks in an annoyed breath through his teeth.

“...Yes, Amai-kun?” he answers, trying to keep his tone level.

“Well, uh- the Raikage and his brother arrived earlier than we expected-”

This doesn't seem to please Orochimaru very much at all.

“-Alright, give me a moment and I’ll-”

“-The Raikage and Hiashi-sama aren’t getting along at all. Orochimaru-sama, Hakuto is worried they’re about to start a fight.”

Orochimaru swears loudly. 

He throws himself out of bed and starts fumbling around to make himself decent. Though she’s unsteady on her feet, Tsunade follows his lead.

They don’t so much as look at each other before rushing out.


	7. Winning over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The somewhat anticlimactic conclusion to the Ame situation. Hiashi may still be a bit mad about Kumo trying to kidnap Hinata way back when. Biwako remembers Danzo being a little shit as a kid, with a bonus cameo from Orochimaru's mom :D

* * *

* * *

“Hiruzen, where are you going?”

Biwako frowns, running to catch up to where Hiruzen and Danzo are standing at the edge of the forest. Hiruzen looks back at her, but Danzo doesn't bother.

“Huh? We’re just exploring,” Hiruzen explains- though Biwako is far from reassured.

“We’re not supposed to go into the woods alone!” She insists.

“We’re not,” Danzo huffs, sounding quite annoyed. “Mind your own business.”

Biwako feels her temper rising in her throat.

“You know what I mean! We’re genin! We’re supposed to bring a grown up with us! What if one of you gets hurt?!” 

“I said mind your busi-”

“We’ll be fine, I promise!” Hiruzen interrupts, trying to placate the both of them. “We just wanna explore a bit, no big deal!”

Biwako pouts. She looks at her betrothed, then at his ornery friend.

“Well then, I’m going with you.”

“Eh?!” The boys cry out in unison.

“You heard me! I’m the one studying medical ninjutsu, so at least I’ll be able to help if something happens.”

“We don’t need-”

“-If you promise not to tell our sensei,” Hiruzen relents.

Danzo doesn't seem pleased one bit.

“Fine. Whatever. Let’s just go already.”

The three of them make their way into the forest, and hope that nobody figures out where they’ve gone off to.

 

They spend a good couple hours wandering around, picking up funny looking rocks or interesting feathers they find along the way. Danzo makes a point of not speaking to Biwako, but she doesn't particularly mind, since she’s not keen on speaking to  _ him,  _ either. Hiruzen talks to the both of them, trying to diffuse the tension between them.

(Biwako won’t give in. She  _ hates _ that boy. Hates the kind of things he gets Hiruzen to do that she knows he wouldn’t otherwise. Or- she  _ hopes  _ he wouldn’t, anyway.)

Biwako feels a small desire to shove Danzo into the creek beside them, just to wipe that sneer off his face. But, she manages to suppress that particular desire. While she and Hiruzen inspect an empty snail shell, Danzo pokes around a hole he’s found.

The other two snap to attention when he yelps in surprise.

Danzo grabs a large, jagged rock, eyes fixed on the little hole he’d been inspecting.

“What’re you doing?!” Hiruzen cries out.

He grabs Danzo’s arm; while he tries to wrestle the rock from his grip, Biwako wanders up to the burrow.

Inside it is a dull green serpent, curled protectively around a clutch of eggs, hissing low in warning.

“Let me  _ go  _ already!” Danzo howls, ramming his elbow into Hiruzen’s ribs to break free. “Just let me crush it already!”

“What?! Why?!” Biwako demands.

“Why do you care?! It’s just a snake- not like anyone is gonna miss it!”

“It’s got eggs in there, and it never hurt anyone!” Biwako insists. “Just leave it alone!”

She tries to snatch the rock out of his hand, but he shoves her aside, sending her toppling to the ground.

“Hey, that’s enough!” Hiruzen pleads, rushing to Biwako’s side to help her up. But Danzo acts as though he can’t hear.

He brandishes the rock above his head-

“-Ow!”

-another comes flying seemingly out of nowhere, knocking it out of his hand.

“What’d she ever do to you, anyway?!”

Though livid, the voice that rings out is quite small.  There’s a rustling in the foliage, and a tiny figure to match that tiny voice emerges.

Dressed in an immaculate black hakama, looking neither quite male or female, the newcomer appears like a ghost from among the leaves. The child glares at Danzo with piercing gold eyes.

“Aoiki just wants to be left alone! Why do you have to hurt her?!”

Three sets of eyes fix on the new arrival.

“Ao-who?” Hiruzen asks, baffled.

He receives the answer to his question when the other child steps over the snake’s burrow, hands on hips in a defiant gesture.

“How’d you feel if I bashed  _ your  _ house and  _ your  _ head in with a rock while you were minding your own business?”

The child’s mouth twists in a snarl that bears abnormally sharp canine teeth, and suddenly Biwako remembers who this is.

She’d been in their class at the Academy- as a matter of fact, she’d been tied for the top-student slot with Biwako and Kagami. Even though she’d never talked much, she’d gotten quite a bit of praise from their teachers.

Kiyohime. The daughter of the strange hermit who lives on the very outskirts of the village. She’s so rarely seen outside school that she almost didn’t recognize her. But Biwako remembers now.

And evidently Danzo does too. He gives her a wicked look, cradling his bruised hand.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?!” he snaps.

“I could ask you the same thing! What sort of guy walks around killing things for fun?!”

Danzo’s face goes blotchy red from humiliation. 

“I’ll make you pay for that!” He hisses at her.

Kiyohime undoes the rope holding three dead fish that’s hanging by her side, and hangs it from a low tree branch.

“If you wanna try,” she shrugs, crouching down to make sure the snake and its eggs are unharmed, mumbling soft reassurances to the agitated serpent. The mother snake seems to calm down, her threatening posture relaxing a bit.

Danzo lunges at her before Biwako can so much as yelp out a warning. But it turns out, she didn’t need to. The other girl blocks his fist with her elbow, and makes her way back onto her feet again.

“You’re a very rude boy,” she says, her voice deathly quiet. 

In one fluid motion, she whirls around and socks him square in the jaw. He goes staggering sideways, ending up sprawled across the mossy ground.

She steps forward like she’s going to hit him again, but freezes dead in her tracks when yet another voice joins them.

“Kiyo?”

Somehow, her white face goes whiter still, her entire tiny body going rigid. That hoarse voice calls out again.

“Kiyo? Hey, Kiyo-”

A wire-thin, haggard looking man comes into view. A man with white skin and bright, gold eyes just like Kiyohime. But those eyes peer out from behind dull, stringy hair, that white skin sickly and ashen. He staggers forward like he’s drunk, moving in awkward, jerky movements like a puppet gone awry.

Kiyohime bolts toward him, eyes wide with worry.

“Papa, you’re not supposed to be out here!” 

She grabs his arms to get his attention, worry in her voice.

“I told you to stay at home, Papa. You could’ve gotten lost!”

“-I got scared,” the man mumbles, his words crashing into each other. “Didn’t know where you’d gone-”

Kiyohime sighs, fetching her fish back from where she’d hung them. She seems to have entirely forgotten Danzo and the others- she doesn't even register when the boy wipes a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth as he gets up out of the mud.

“I’m right here, Papa. C’mon, let’s go home. I got fish- we can make the stew you like, okay?” 

She talks to the man like he’s the child rather than her, taking both his hands in hers and leading him away. She steadies him when he stumbles, reassuring him just as she’d reassured the snake in its burrow.

Danzo glares daggers at her as she disappears.

“That guy-” Hiruzen mutters. “Why was- what’s wrong with him?”

“That’s rude, Hiruzen!” Biwako chastises.

Danzo rubs the blossoming bruise on his cheek, his eyes still fixed where Kiyohime had disappeared. His face is still flushed dark red, though Biwako has to wonder if it’s just from his embarrassment.

“-I’m going back,” he huffs, after a bit. 

“...We should, too,” Hiruzen offers. “Before someone notices we’re gone.”

Biwako nods her agreement, grateful to be leaving the forest at last.

 

* * *

* * *

“Something on your mind, Mom?”

Biwako shakes her head to clear away the fog. She sits up on the rickety cot she laid down on to catch a few precious moments’ sleep before making the rounds once again.

“I- no. I was just daydreaming.”

Asuma frowns, but he doesn't question his mother any further. Mirai squirms in his arms, whining imperiously. He tries to shush her, so she doesn't wake anyone sleeping around them.

“Kurenai’s asleep,” he explains. “So she’s stuck with dad and she doesn't like it.”

Biwako manages a smile. 

“She’s a particular little thing, isn’t she?” 

“I suppose she gets that from me.”

Biwako takes the baby from him, rocking and shushing her til she stops fussing. Soon, the only sound in the room is the crackling of the fireplace.

“...I’m sorry,” Biwako says.

“Huh? What for?”

“I had hoped that by the time you had your own family, the world would be a more peaceful one. I suppose that was just a fantasy.”

“Mom, we can fix it. It’s not gonna be like this forever.”

The woman smiles, albeit a hollow smile.

“You sound like your sister when you say that.”

More silence. Asuma obviously has something on his mind, so she waits for him to say it.

“Why does Dad trust him?” he finally asks.

Biwako doesn't have to ask who ‘him’ is referring to.

“Heaven only knows,” she answers. “I never understood what he saw in that man; when we were young, he was the only one who’d ever give Danzo the time of day. Maybe he thought he could reform him by being his friend. Hiruzen was always naive like that.”

Asuma reaches out to take Mirai back, cradling her carefully in his arms.

“We’ll fix it,” he repeats. “So Mirai doesn't have to grow up in a world where people like Danzo are allowed to run around and do whatever they want.’

Biwako nods.

This is how Asuma has always been. In stark contrast to Hiruzen’s constant refrains of  _ it can’t be helped,  _ Asuma was always eager to tackle whatever problems he solved. Of course this situation would be no different.

One can only hope he’s right when he says this can be fixed. 

 

* * *

Tsunade and Orochimaru are greeted with a little bit of a situation when they come flying into the main meeting area.

Hiashi and the Raikage glare daggers at each other, shoulders squared back, each man drawing up to their full height. Despite being far smaller than A, Hiashi doesn't seem the least bit intimidated.

“-say that again. I fucking dare you,” A growls.

“Listening must not be your forte,” Hiashi retorts, through clenched teeth.

“You talk tough shit for a guy with one arm.”

A’s voice is low and menacing like an angry lion; Hiashi doesn't so much as flinch in response.

“One arm is all I’d need to take you out- and you’re not giving me much reason not to.”

“Maybe you’d like me to rip the other one off for you?”

Hiashi strikes out, Tsunade lunges forward to stop him- 

“Daddy, that’s enough!”

-But it turns out she doesn't need to.

Hinata snatches her father’s wrist, shoving herself between the two men. 

If Hiashi is small compared to the Raikage, Hinata is positively dwarfed. Still, she holds her ground, despite her trembling hands.

“Why are you doing this when we need his help?!”

The poor girl’s face is flushed from embarrassment, her voice shaky and breathless. But she pushes on anyway. She looks from one man to the other, her milky white eyes pleading.

“What’s it gonna solve if we waste time bickering over the past when we have the bigger problem in front of us?! We need each other right now! Whatever went on back then isn’t important anymore!”

Hiashi heaves a great sigh, bowing his head like he’s ashamed.

“I...You’re right,” he says, sheepishly.

A doesn't seem as convinced. His brother puts a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“The lady’s right, bro. It ain’t gonna do anyone any good if we eat each other. Take it easy.”

Bee finally seems to get through to him, and A’s tense posture relaxes a small fraction. Hinata doesn't dare lower her arms or step away.

Orochimaru takes a step forward, finally deciding to interject.

“I’d say welcome to Oto, but it seems we haven’t been very welcoming yet.”

He probably meant his tone to be playful, but it comes out rather ornery instead. He crosses his arms and smiles a tight, forced smile at the both of them.

Neither A nor Killer Bee seem to have a response to that.

“Are there others, or is it just the two of you?” Orochimaru asks, trying to get their train of thought back on track.

“Bee brought a few others along,” the Raikage replies, giving Orochimaru a quick once-over. “You look like shit.”

Orochimaru forces a laugh.

“Well, you did call on us in the middle of the night. Even I can’t be totally polished at all hours- everyone has to sleep sometime.”

Tsunade wants to punch him for his bald-faced lie, but decides to leave it alone.

(after all, for a certain definition of “sleeping”, he isn’t lying.)  


“Since you’re here, I take it you’ll be wanting to offer your assistance?”

“If by that you mean I wanna nail that fucker’s ass to the wall, then yeah,” A responds.

Orochimaru shrugs, arms still tightly crossed. His expression is inscrutable and flat.

“That’s fine by me.”

Tsunade rests her hands on her hips, setting her own face in a stern expression.

(Orochimaru might be okay with these guys stomping around peacocking like prizefighters, but Tsunade won’t tolerate it.)

“Try to pull that shit with one of the Hyuuga again,” she warns A, “And you’ll be dealing with me. I don’t give a shit whatever bad blood there is between you two.”

She turns her head toward Hiashi.

“And you- can you not fucking threaten the leader of another village? It’s the last fucking thing we need right now.”

Hiashi pulls an unflattering face, and nods his understanding; the Raikage grumbles, but doesn't challenge her.

(Even standing barefoot in nothing but a pilfered pair of Orochimaru’s pajamas, apparently she can still manage to be intimidating.)

“Let’s take this discussion somewhere more comfortable,” Orochimaru offers, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. “I’ll have coffee made.”

“Fine, fine.”

“I’m gonna stay back here,” Bee says. “So Omoi and the others don’t wonder where I’ve gone.”

“Fine, fine.”

 

Hinata releases a huge, pent-up breath, finally letting herself relax a bit. She puts a hand to her head, her temples throbbing with the remnants of anxiety. She’s glad to be alone in this great stone room for a few precious moments.

Or- she thought she was alone.

“Hey, you-”

She yelps, jumping a good meter into the air.

The man behind her laughs, scratching at the tattoo on the side of his face.

“Easy, yo. I don’t bite- That’s my brother’s job!”

Hinata furrows her brow, drawing in on herself a tiny bit.

“I- uh- I’m sorry?”

“Nah, you don’t gotta say sorry for anything. If anything, I’m sorry my brother pissed your dad off so bad.”

“Oh, it’s- it’s fine.”

“-He acts like an asshole, but he’s really not so bad, y’know? He’s just got a hard time showing any emotion that’s not bitchy. Ya feel me?”

Hinata lets out a nervous little giggle.

“That sounds like my dad.”

“Would ya look at that? Sounds like they got somethin’ in common! Maybe they’ll learn how to get along!”

That gets another laugh out of the girl- a less anxious one this time.

“Um, my name is Hinata,” she offers, with a little bow. “I-it’s nice to meet you.”

The man offers her a grin.

“Killer Bee. Nice to meet ya too.”

He ruffles her hair; she squeaks in surprise.

“You’re pretty ballsy for such a tiny thing, you know that?”

“I-I’m not, really,” Hinata mumbles. “I-I was terrified, to be honest-”

“So you’re telling me that you put your ass on the line even though you were scared shitless. Sounds pretty ballsy to me.”

Hinata’s face turns bright red- she hides it in her hands.

“You wanna come meet my friends? They’ll probably think you’re pretty cool, too.”

“Huh? Uh- sure?”

“Let’s see- I think I saw them headed off this way- C’mon.”

 

* * *

“Well, you’ve certainly managed to make a mess out of things, haven’t you?”

Orochimaru walks away from both his friends, stepping over rubble and mangled metal. Yahiko glares at him, clutching at his wounded arm to try to stem the bleeding. 

Out of thin air, countless sheets of colored paper fly together; Konan joins Yahiko in glaring distrustfully as Orochimaru walks past Deidara, who’s sprawled half-unconscious on the ground.

“It wouldn’t be so messy if that boy didn’t try to blow me off the face of the earth.”

He shows no hint of unease when he approaches the massive salamander in front of him, gold eyes turned toward the man perched on top.

Terrified villagers poke their heads out from behind ruined buildings and splintered trees, watching with rapt attention.

“Hanzo. I was wondering if I'd see you again."  


The man tilts his head. In a smooth motion, he leaps off the salamander, landing deftly in front of Orochimaru. Konan throws her arm out to keep Yahiko from lunging at him.

“I thought the three of you broke up,” Hanzo remarks, gesturing toward Tsunade and Jiraiya.

“We did,” Orochimaru confirms. “But things have changed since then.”

Hanzo shrugs. Tsunade and Jiraiya exchange confused looks.

“Why are you two acting all friendly?” Jiraiya asks, warily.

“I wouldn’t call it friendly,” Orochimaru answers. “It’s more of a business arrangement.”

“What-”

“-I heard that Danzo was keeping contact with Hanzo over the years,” Tsunade says. “I didn’t realize you’d been their go-between.”

(Jiraiya wants to scream at Tsunade for not ever telling him this.)

Orochimaru sighs.

“I was Danzo’s errand-runner for a lot of things.”

Jiraiya frowns.

“You never told us.”

“Of course I didn’t. It was a secret.”

“Why?!” Konan demands. “Why the hell would you help either of them?!”

She’s angry. Wounded that anyone who’d ever been with Akatsuki would have been allied with Danzo. 

Orochimaru smiles wearily at her.

“You of all people should know that there’s precious little one won’t go through to protect what you hold dear.”

“What-”

Hanzo scowls. 

“So why are you here?” he demands.

Orochimaru gestures around them with one hand.

“The world is changing quickly, Hanzo. There are two sides forming right now, and I could use this village on mine. It would be a bother if you razed it to the ground during this little grudge match of yours.”

Hanzo narrows his eyes in suspicion.

“Is that so?”

Orochimaru gets that uncanny, eerie smile that he gets when he’s thinking something ugly. Jiraiya wants to reach out and pull him away, but Tsunade holds him back.

Orochimaru grabs Hanzo’s upper arm, leaning in and whispering something in his ear. Jiraiya can’t make out what exactly he says, but it makes Hanzo go paler than his hair, and he swallows thickly.

“...I see,” he says, in a meek, almost frightened sort of way.

Orochimaru chuckles, patting the side of his mask.

“Good boy.”

Hanzo growls, but holds his tongue.

“So what do you have in mind?” he asks instead.

“Only for you to be sensible and cooperate. I’m sure I can count on you for that.”

“Wait,” Tsunade interjects. “Why’d you bring us along if you didn’t need us?!”

“I like to be over-prepared,” Orochimaru answers with a shrug. “Besides- it was nostalgic coming here with the three of you.”

Tsunade scowls.

“Dick.”

“I don’t see why you’re so upset,” Hanzo remarks. “After all-”

He jabs a senbon into Orochimaru’s neck; Orochimaru disappears in a cloud of smoke, drawing a collective gasp from the civilians who dare to venture out.

“-You couldn’t even be bothered to come in person. I’m hurt.”

Konan and Yahiko look at each other in confusion; Konan’s body doesn't relax from its tense posture. But Hanzo appears to be done fighting them. When he speaks to her, he sounds annoyed, but resigned.

“...Well, it appears this village is yours now,” he says. “So I suppose you’ll want me gone.”

“That’s right!” Yahiko snaps. “Nobody wants you here!”

“As big a mouth as ever, I see.”

Jiraiya feels stuck, unsure what to say (or if he should speak at all).

A small boy creeps forward, then bursts out into a run, chased after by a panicked older boy.

The child throws his arms around Konan’s leg, squeezing it tightly, trembling in terror.

“Tenshi-sama,” he whines.

Shaking her head, Konan strokes the child’s messy hair to comfort him. The boy’s caretaker approaches warily, turning wide gray eyes toward Yahiko. Yahiko stands rooted to the spot, confused.

“...Are you…” he stammers, then turns to Konan. “...Is he?”

“Eh?”

Konan answers before Yahiko gets a chance.

“-The one we called God has returned to heaven,” she says, in a voice that’s impossibly gentle. “His name is Yahiko.”

The boy and his younger brother frown, looking at the increasingly confused Yahiko. Konan looks up at where a couple young women are tending to the half-lucid Deidara.

“Will he be alright?” she asks.

“He wasn’t badly poisoned,” one of the girls says. “He’ll be alright.”

“Piss off,” Deidara moans, trying weakly to push the girls away from him.

Fear assuaged, Konan turns her attention back toward Hanzo.

The man takes a step forward. Then another. Attention fixed solely on Yahiko.

“What are you doing-”

When Jiraiya and Tsunade try to get between them, Hanzo just throws a pair of kunai that sends them away in twin puffs of smoke.

"As reckless as ever," he mutters.

Konan goes rigid, unsure whether it’s fear or something else keeping her frozen in place.

Yahiko draws back, flinching violently when Hanzo lays a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“...Huh?”

“-I was played for a sucker,” Hanzo says, sounding rather sad. “If I’d been smarter, you wouldn’t have died.”

He sounds...guilty? Konan and Yahiko wear matching dumbstruck expressions.

“I won’t ask you do forgive me. I’ll just be on my way.”

Yahiko stays rooted to the spot, blinking rapidly while his brain tries to process. Hanzo turns away from them, gesturing at an overturned dumpster.

“We’re not welcome here anymore.”

From behind the filthy, corroded metal, a woman and a small girl emerge, creeping forward nervously.

“...Darling?” the woman asks anxiously.

“Darling?” Yahiko echoes, brow furrowing.

“Daddy, where are we going?” the little girl asks, reaching her arms out toward him. 

“Daddy?” 

Yahiko feels absolutely baffled. Who are these guys, and how does Konan not seem surprised to see them?!

The child looks just like Hanzo, right down to the coarse, ashy hair. And he touches her gently, like she’s precious to him, and Yahiko just doesn't  _ understand! _

(Hanzo had...how is that even possible with someone like him…?)

“We’ll go to Orochimaru. If he won’t take us, we’ll figure something else.”

“We’re gonna see Goldie?” the child asks. 

“That’s right.”

The little girl beams. The boys gathered around Konan draw closer to her.

“Darling, are you-”

A cacophony of swarming crows drowns out what Hanzo’s wife is asking.

A rush of excited whispering swells up when a figure forms from the deafening cloud of birds.

“Itachi-sama!”

“What happened to him?” He asks immediately, crouching down to look Deidara over.

“H-he was poisoned,” a flustered young woman says. “I-I think he’ll be okay.”

“Good.”

“B-but Itachi-sama, I thought y-you had-”

Itachi raises a hand to cut the girl off, attention on Konan instead.

“He needs to come with me,” he says.

Konan raises an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“We found Hidan.”

“Oh?”

“He’s not well. The hope is that he’ll recognize Deidara.”

Konan hums her understanding, not taking her eyes off Hanzo and his family as they head on their way.

“...That’s fine then.”

Itachi half-drags Deidara into a standing position, ignoring the pleas of a handful of girls for him to stay.

“Piss off,” Deidara slurs, starting to come around. “I can stand on my own-”

He’s quickly proved incorrect when he goes staggering sideways and nearly crashes to the ground again. He doesn't protest Itachi’s aid any further.

“Will you come see him too?” Itachi asks.

But Konan doesn't answer.

  
  



	8. Tell Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of hurt feelings in this chapter. Like, lots.

Orochimaru bangs his head on the edge of the table, wishing Jiraiya would just  _ shut the fuck up  _ for once in his life.

“Were you- with Hanzo- did you-”

Jiraiya sounds stupid. Jiraiya is  _ acting  _ stupid. Orochimaru wants to slap him so badly his hand twitches.

“I don’t see how that matters,” he hisses.

“Can we get back on subject?” A demands, his short temper growing shorter still. Unfortunately nobody seems to hear him.

“Because you- I mean, he-”

“-He has a wife and a daughter, Jiraiya.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before!” Tsunade interjects.

“I wouldn-”

A slams his fist down on the ebony table, jolting everyone else to attention.

“Listen here and listen good- I don’t give a fuck who fucked who, when, why, or in which fucking hole. We’ve got bigger fucking problems to deal with than fucking! Got it?!”

Silence.

“Good. Now, we’re  _ supposed  _ to be talking about where this fucker’s gonna hit first. Kumo is the closest to Konoha, but the mountains give us some cover, so he might go past it and go for Suna first. You know him better, so-”

A few heartbeats of contemplation pass.

“Rasa will be back with us now,” Orochimaru says, cautiously. “He helped plan my failed attack on Konoha a few years back, so Shimura will want to get him back for that.”

“You sure?” Jiraiya asks.

“Shimura is almost pathetically predictable,” Orochimaru answers.

“So should we warn the Kazekage? Or send people to help?” Tsunade suggests, chewing on her thumbnail. “We have no idea of the timeline here. I mean, he could already be…”

She trails off.

“We’ll see what volunteers we have to spare to help Suna when the attack comes. “I’m sure our young Kazekage will manage until then.”

“And what about the Jinchuriki?” Jiraiya asks. “I mean, the ones that’re still alive.”

“You won’t have to worry about Bee,” A answers abruptly. “He can deal just fine.”

“And Naruto is right here,” Tsunade adds. “We’ll make sure he’s safe.”

“Yeah…”

Jiraiya still feels uncertain. But he’ll deal with that as it comes.

 

* * *

“Kisame, my man, you look like shit.”

Kisame doesn't even attempt to fake a smile. 

“You don’t exactly look like a million ryo yourself.”

(And he really does look awful- he’s got that sort of greyish tinge to his skin Itachi had when he was having a particularly bad day.)

“I got poisoned by a bigass salamander  _ hn. _ What’s your excuse?”

Kisame growls, too tired to come up with a proper retort. Deidara huffs.

“Well, where is he? He demands.

Kisame jerks his head.

“Around this way. You might wanna brace yourself.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.”

Deidara shoves past him and Kakashi, into the tiny room where Hidan is being held. He freezes, his blue eyes going wide.

“No way-”

His eyes grow wet, his hands starting to tremble. He fights through this, and smiles as best he can.

“You look like death, buddy.”

It takes a herculean effort, but Hidan manages to pull himself into a sitting position. He cocks his head, struggling to get his eyes to focus. He squints, like his brain can’t process what his eyes are telling him. He squirms against the ties securing him to the gurney, with a low growl of frustration.

“You shoulda seen how he looked when we found him,” Kisame muses, though Deidara ignores him.

“Untie him.” 

Kakashi blinks at Deidara’s command.

“What-”

“He’s not a fucking animal!” Deidara howls. “I said fuckin’ untie him!”

Kakashi casts a glance at Biwako, eyebrow raised. She makes an affirmative motion with her head, so he obliges the demand.

Deidara practically leaps to his bedside and throws his arms around Hidan.

“You fuckin’ reek,” he mumbles. “Kakuzu would probably hit ya with a water jutsu just to make ya smell a bit better  _ hn. _ ”

Hidan looks confused. His arms hover uselessly for a bit like he’s not sure what to do with them.

“...Fuck you,” he mumbles, his voice raspy and horrible. But even as he says it, he finds the capacity to return the hug. Deidara half-laughs, half sobs with relief.

“Figures he’d remember how to swear,” Kisame mutters.

Deidara strokes Hidan’s hair, muttering nonsense nobody else can hear. But it’s hard to tell how much Hidan can even understand.

“What happened to him?” Deidara finally demands, shooting a filthy look in Kakashi’s direction.

“That’s a long story,” Kakashi answers.

“I got all day,” Deidara shoots back.

“-The short of it is that he’s been buried. Someone dug him up, threw him back together and sent him after us.”

“But why though?!”

Kakashi tries to answer, but, out of nowhere, Hidan starts thrashing uncontrollable, a horrible, inhuman howl of agony tearing from his throat. Deidara gets tossed aside, hitting the floor with a yelp of surprise.

“What’s wrong with him?!” he yells.

“What’s  _ right  _ with him is an easier question,” Kisame replies, helping Yamato and Kakashi get Hidan secured again, to keep him from hurting himself worse. Hidan rages and wails, in frantic high-pitched tones that raise the hair on the back of everyone’s neck.

“Why is he like this?! He shouldn’t be- he’s supposed to heal!” Deidara’s own voice is also quite high-pitched and desperate, now. 

A horrible, sickening  _ crack  _ sends the room into silence. Hidan’s leg jerks violently, the unnatural angle it was resting at correcting itself with a series of stomach-churning sounds.

Finally, after an eternity that was really only maybe fifteen seconds, his entire body goes limp, trembling, a string of babbled gibberish bubbling out of his mouth along with a startling amount of blood.

Wide, panicked eyes look wildly around the room- at Kisame, then at Kakashi, then at Yamato, then finally at Deidara again. He tries to reach out, whimpering pathetically when he can’t move more than an inch or so.

“Hurts-” he whines, in a tone startlingly like a wounded dog. 

Deidara clambers clumsily back to his feet, looking helpless and probably feeling it too. But he does his best to regain composure, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

After a silence just long enough to become awkward, he finds his voice.

“Where’s your boyfriend  _ hn _ ?” He asks Kisame, trying just a bit too hard to sound aloof. “He ditched me as soon as we got here.”

Kisame snorts derisively. Kakashi and Biwako exchange nervous looks.

“Boyfriend? You must be mistaken- I don’t have one of those.”

The gears in Deidara’s brain turn for a second before clicking into place. His eyebrows shoot up into his blond bangs.

“Well, shit,” he says, genuine surprise in his voice. “If Kakuzu was still kickin’, he’d owe me so much money right now.”

Kisame pretends he didn’t hear that.

Hidan’s pitiful groaning fills the sudden silence, until Biwako clears her throat to draw attention to herself.

“Well, did you have any luck with the Yamanaka?” she asks.

“What’re you-”

“Not really,” Kakashi cuts Deidara off. “He made Inoichi puke, but we didn’t get anything useful out of it.”

“What else can we do then?” Kisame demands.

Deidara lights up in anger when Kakashi just shrugs.

“We’re not just leaving him like this  _ hn! _ ”

“Well,” Kakashi interjects, trying to get Deidara to shut up for a bit. “What exactly do you suggest we do with him?”

Deidara grits his teeth, looking like he’s one insensitive remark from blowing something up.

“What about his family?” Yamato interjects, finally breaking his silence without really thinking the words through. “We could bring them he-”

“Are you fuckin’ retarded?!”

Deidara whirls around like a wild animal, face bright red from rage. Yamato immediately shrinks back.

“He doesn't  _ have  _ any family, dumbass! None of us do! None of us have anything! Why do you think we got stuck in Akatsuki in the fuckin’ first place  _ hn _ ?!”

“You expect us to feel sorry for him?” Kakashi asks, his patience rapidly dwindling. “After he killed a man with a wife and an unborn daughter waiting at h-”

“Oh save your fuckin’ breath!” 

Deidara stalks up to Kakashi, blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

“I suppose nobody from Konoha has ever killed anyone’s mommy or daddy? Always made sure the little kiddies got home safe and sound? Always checked to make sure the enemy ninja they were about to gut was single first?”

His mockery is undercut by the way his voice cracks with the intensity of his emotions.

“Oh, wait- your fuckin’ dad is the reason Sasori’s parents are dead. Did daddy Sakumo deserve to get buried and left to fuckin’ rot?! Or hey-”

He points his finger at the door like it’s a dagger.

“-how many mommies and daddies got killed because of that asshole’s dad  _ hn _ ? How many people did that fuckin’ Hokage have killed that had kids or wives or husbands or whateverthefuck waiting at home?! Why’s Hidan so awful that  _ he’s  _ the one who deserves to wind up this way?!”

He’s speaking at Biwako before Kakashi can even begin to articulate an answer.

“You’re an old fuck- you remember part of the agreement that was on the fuckin’ piece of paper you assholes made Iwa sign at the end of the last war.”

Biwako doesn't even flinch at him.

“- _ All criminals and prisoners are to be dealt with proportionately and fairly, _ ” she answers.

“So what’s fair about this  _ hn _ ?!”

“Absolutely nothing.”

Deidara falls silent, wide-eyed and stunned by the admission.

Biwako puts a hand on his head, giving him a pitying sort of look.

“You aren’t wrong to be angry. You’re right- no matter what he’s done, this isn’t fair. To either of you.”

This seems to disarm Deidara, at least a little bit. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, sadder.

“...So what’s gonna happen to him?”

“We’ll do our best for him. But we have to deal with reality as it is, not as we’d like it to be.”

“-Not that this isn’t touching-”

Everyone in the room jumps out of their skin. Obito keeps talking like he didn’t just appear from nowhere. “-But I’ve got something interesting.”

“Oh?”

Yamato and Kakashi are already by the door. Biwako follows a bit less willingly.

“You can stay with him if you want,” she tells Deidara, as if he wasn’t planning to already.

He grabs a chair and pulls it up to the side of the gurney, the feet  _ shrieking  _ against the floor. His fingers play up Hidan’s bandaged arm, drawing a soft, almost cooing sort of noise from him. Kisame doesn't move from his spot slumped up against the farthest wall.

“So,” he says, sounding worn out. “What happened with you and Itachi  _ hn _ ?”

“I missed the part where that’s any of your business.”

“Jeez, I was just curious. You don’t gotta get pissy with me.”

Neither of them care to speak anymore, so they don’t; instead, they listen to the commotion going on just outside.

_ Tobi musta pissed them off,  _ Deidara thinks, feeling like rolling his eyes.

But with how tired he is, that would be far too much effort. He lays his head on the gurney, his hand wandering until it meets Hidan’s, tangling their fingers together. It’s comforting, if only just a little, when Hidan gives his hand a little squeeze. And for now, Deidara can pretend everything is going to be alright.

(Luckily for him, he has a good imagination.)

 

“What’s-”

Obito reaches his arm into the void of Kamui, yanking out a rope with two men bound within it. They hit the ground with a synchronized grunt and a dull thud.

“-I caught the rats. You’re welcome.”

“Holy-”

“Fuu?” Yamato sounds stunned, relieved and terrified, all at once. “Torune?”

“Yama-”

Fuu half-laughs in disbelief. Torune tries to wrestle the both of them into a sitting position.

“What are you doing here?!” Yamato demands.

“Well-” Fuu fumbles.

“-No sense in lying,” Torune says. “Danzo-sama sent us here, with that...whatever he is.” he gestures toward the room housing Hidan with his head. 

“So how’d you find us?” Yamato asks

“...Actually, we were following  _ you. _ ”

“Huh? But-”

“-He didn’t tell us how, but he knew where you were, Yamato. And he knew you’d be with the others, so-”

“-Shit!”

Yamato feels close to panic, clutching his shirt and trying to steady his breath. Kakashi, however-

“Alright. So we gotta tell everyone. I doubt Hidan will be the only attack sent our way. Gotta be ready for that.”

Irritation writes itself in Obito’s brow at Kakashi’s nonchalant reaction.

“That’s it? Really?”

(Yamato has to agree. If he’s a danger- if he’s drawing enemies to their doorstep- how can Kakashi be so calm?)

“Well there’s not a lot else that we can do,” Kakashi answers. “Besides hit them first and hit them harder.”

Yamato wishes he had that confidence. But he'll do his best to fake it.  


 

* * *

Itachi is running away again. Just like he did back then. Trying to run away and leave Sasuke behind.

“Niisan-”

“Leave me  _ alone, _ Sasuke.”

(He sounds annoyed. Probably because Sasuke is being annoying.)

So here Sasuke is, once again. Chasing after his older brother, like he’s always done. This time it’s through the winding labyrinth of Otogakure, and this time his brother is little more than a corpse- but it’s all the same shit. Just a different day.

“I want to talk-” Sasuke pleads, hating himself for how  _ whiney  _ he sounds.

“-There’s nothing left to talk about,” Itachi replies.

“That’s bullshit, Itachi!”

(Lies, and more lies. All Itachi can do is  _ lie  _ to Sasuke and he hates that even more than his own whining.)

They turn a corner into a part of Oto Sasuke knows is a dead end, and a sick satisfaction wells up in his chest.

(Finally, he knows something Itachi doesn't.)

“Stop running away from me!” Sasuke demands, when he knows his brother is trapped.

Itachi looks furious. He looks hurt. But Sasuke doesn't care.

“I want to talk.”

“I don’t.”

Itachi rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, agitated like a cornered animal.

“What else could you possibly want from me?” Itachi asks, in exasperation, throwing his arms out wide. “What more do I have to give you?”

“I just want my brother.”

Sasuke is desperate. One heartbeat away from begging.

“I want my brother back. I want to understand.”

“You were never  _ supposed  _ to understand!” Itachi snaps. “And I’m already dead! Understanding is pointless, Sasuke!”

“But you’re still  _ here _ !”

“Only until Kabuto decides otherwise. The sooner you let me go, the easier it’ll be for the both of us.”

“No! I can’t just let it go! I can’t just let  _ you  _ go! How the hell could I?!”

“Because you have to.”

Niisan-”

“-There you are. You can’t just vanish without telling anyone where you’re going, Sasuke!”

Itachi’s body goes rigid when he hears that familiar voice.

“-What’s  _ he  _ doing here?” another voice snarls. “I thought he finally did the world a favor and died.”

“I did,” Itachi answers, irritated at being spoken about like he wasn’t there.

Sasuke turns to face the trio of men behind them. Now he remembers, too.

These guys. The ones who’d barged in accusing Itachi of murdering Shisui. Yes, he remembers far too well.

“Took you long enough- how long did you waste air on this planet for then, traitor?”

Sasuke tries to speak, but Itachi beats him to it.

“You were right, Inabi. I never saw my thirtieth birthday. I didn’t even come close.  Congratulations- you’re a prophet.”

Inabi snorts derisively. The two men accompanying him watch him anxiously.

“You should’ve died back then,” he growls. “Woulda saved us a lot of trouble.”

One heartbeat of silence passes. Sasuke’s blood grows cold when Itachi smiles, pulling up the sleeve of his heavy red cloak. He turns his arm over, and Sasuke’s blood freezes.

There’s more scars there than untouched flesh. Mottled burns broken up by long-healed gashes decorate the pale surface. Cutting its way through the rest, like a river through a canyon, is a single stark-white, jagged scar that stretches from the base of his palm to the crook of his elbow.

(It looks so painful. Sasuke wonders just how  _ badly  _ his dear older brother had to hurt.)

“I tried,” Itachi says, in a tone that’s far too calm. “Believe me, I gave it my best effort. Not that any of my efforts were ever good enough for the clan.”

Tekka and Yashiro look rather nauseous; Inabi appears stunned.

“Niisan-” Sasuke mutters helplessly.

“I don’t see why any of it matters, anyway,” Itachi continues, in an ice-cold voice full of barely-repressed anger. “You got your coup d’etat. You’re getting your precious revolution. And I can assure you I died absolutely miserably- that should be enough to satisfy you.”

“You didn’t have to!” Tekka snaps. “You didn’t have to betray us!”

“That’s right,” Yashiro chimes in. “We’d counted on you! You’re the one who turned on us!”

“Don’t lie!”

Itachi’s voice rises sharply, and Sasuke flinches.

(Just like back then. Just like when  _ these three bastards  _ ruined their lovely afternoon, by accusing his brother of murder. Itachi sounds just like he had that day- frustrated, angry, almost feral.)

“All you wanted was for me to hurry up and die, so you could stop waiting for my parents to see sense and get rid of the defective heir.”

(Defective? Wonderful- now confusion merges with the hurricane of emotions in Sasuke’s head.)

“You only started giving a damn because I got into Danzo’s good graces. And even then it wasn’t enough. Well,  _ I’ve  _ had enough. I couldn’t care less about our clan.”

Inabi’s hair-trigger temper sets off, and he lunges to strike out at Itachi. Sasuke tries to intervene, to get these men away from  _ his  _ brother-

-Inabi gets thrown backward, bouncing off one of the crimson ribs of Itachi’s Susanoo. A pair of enormous, skeletal hands branch out from it; one closes around the three men, the other around Sasuke.

“Niisan, what are you doing?!”

The Susanoo places Sasuke gently out of Itachi’s way. The three others, however, are set down far more roughly.

“You’re rid of me now,” he says, curtly, coldly. “You came here for Sasuke- well, there he is. I’ll get out of your way.”

“Niisan, no-”

Sasuke tries to run after his brother, but gets blocked off by the Susanoo’s skeletal hand. 

“Leave me alone.”

“Niisan  _ please- _ ”

“I have nothing left to give you, Sasuke. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

Yashiro grabs Sasuke’s upper arm.

“Just let him go.”

“I don’t-”

But Itachi is already gone.

“Are you-”

“Ask me if I’m alright and I swear I’ll cut your dick off.”

Yashiro recoils, releasing Sasuke’s arm. Sasuke isn’t sure whether he wants to scream or cry or throw up.

“Talk to my brother ever again, I’ll kill all three of you,” Sasuke adds, for good measure.

He takes grim satisfaction in their scandalized expressions.

(Good. they  _ should  _ be afraid.)

“We were just-”

Tekka recoils when Sasuke snarls at him.

“Don’t talk to  _ me, _ either. You haven’t earned the right.”

Sasuke storms off, needed to get away.

He’s not sure where he’s going. Other than  _ away from here. _

 

* * *

“Naruto, where are you going?”

“I uh- I gotta- I just-”

Naruto freezes in his tracks, crumpling the paper clutched in his right hand. Mikoto’s frown burns the back of his head.

“I gotta find him,” he almost whimpers.

“Sweetheart, you know you can’t leave on your own.”

The boy whirls around, his face twisted with emotions.

“But if I don’t- if he dies, he’ll be all alone- _ ttebayo.  _ He doesn't deserve it. Nobody…”

Bright blue eyes dart to Sai’s note, scanning the fastidious handwriting for what must be the hundredth time.

“I-I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to him and I wasn’t there-”

“Honey, no-” 

Mikoto takes hold of his forearm, firmly but kindly.

“You know you can’t. People are going to be after you- you can’t be off alone.”

“Then I’ll take Sakura-chan with me!” Naruto insists. “I can’t just leave him-”

“-You’re being too stubborn.”

When she realizes what she’s said, Mikoto lets out a sigh that turns into a laugh.

“You’re just like her.”

“Who-”

“-Kushina.”

Naruto pulls a face.

“...You mean my mom?”

Taking her opportunity to distract him, Mikoto gently leads Naruto out from the open, to the safety of a small cluster of trees and vines.

“You said you were friends,” Naruto says, carefully (is he afraid?). Mikoto smiles sadly.

“More than friends,” she answers. “My dearest friend. I’ve never met anyone else like her.”

Naruto frowns; Mikoto coaxes him to sit down on a mossy boulder, gently prying Sai’s note from his fingers.

“What was she like?” the boy asks.

“Stubborn. Short-tempered and reckless and airheaded and loud.”

Naruto’s cheeks turn red, like he’s offended on his mother’s behalf. Mikoto smiles again, an expression more melancholy than the last.

“...Warm and kind hearted, and braver than anyone else I’ve ever known,” she continues, sitting beside him. 

Naruto scratches the back of his neck.

“Was she…” he hesitates for a moment. “...Was she pretty?”

“The most beautiful woman in the world.”

Reaching into one of the pockets of her flak jacket, Mikoto pulls out a meticulously folded photograph. She opens it up, and shows it to him. The boy’s bright eyes nearly fall out of his head.

“That’s my-”

“-We were about the same age you are now when we took this. That’s Tsume on the right, that’s me obviously, and your mom’s in the middle.”

The three of them grin at the camera, arms wrapped around each other. The woman Naruto would have called his mother is…

Naruto swallows the lump in his throat, trying not to be overwhelmed by the emotions that surge up inside him when he looks at this photograph.

His mother had a cascade of brilliant red hair- it’s like fire, with the way it shimmers in the sunlight- and eyes like fresh-bloomed bellflowers, bright and full of life. She had a soft, round face and a smile that’s  _ just like his _ . His heart clenches painfully at the sight of it.

Mikoto strokes his messy blond hair, shoulders bowed like she’s carrying a great weight.

“She was a wonderful woman. I know she’d be so proud of how you’ve grown up.”

Her idea seems to have worked. Naruto takes the photograph from her, studying it carefully like he wants to memorize every tiny detail.

He tries very hard to imagine that the hand petting his hair is that hand in the photograph- the one resting on Mikoto’s shoulder. The hand that belonged to his mother.

(He’s never even met her, but he misses her  _ so much. _ )

Naruto sniffs, swallowing down his emotions so he doesn't cry.

“Oh, you poor thing.”

Mikoto gathers him into her arms, hoping that, even though she could never hope to match Kushina, she can maybe take the hurt away. If only for a moment.

Naruto leans into her, making a small, mournful sound.

“Why’d she have to go?” he whimpers.

“I don’t know,” Mikoto answers.

“It’s not fair.”

“I know it isn’t.”

“I don’t wanna lose anyone else,” he bleats out, pitifully. 

Mikoto wants to say  _ “you won’t-”  _ but she doesn't want to lie to him. So she hugs him tighter.

(he’s just like her,  _ just like her, _ and it’s breaking Mikoto’s heart.)

“...I know, sweetheart,” she says, instead. “I know.”

 

* * *

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t-”

Izumi cuts herself off when the Hyuuga girl in the cot presses a finger to her lips.

“He fell asleep,” she whispers. “He looked like he really needed it, so I don’t wanna wake him.”

“Huh? Who-”

She follows the gesture of the girl’s head. Slumped in an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair, that serpentine man who’d been so rude to her is fast asleep. His glasses sit askew on his face, that perpetual furrow in his brow relaxed.

“Oh…”

“His name’s Kabuto, I think,” the Hyuuga girl says. “That’s what the red-haired lady called him, anyway.”

Izumi nods.

“And you’re-”

“Hanabi.”

“I-I’m Izumi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Hanabi chirrups, with a little smile. “Hey, Izumi-chan, could I ask a favor?”

“Yeah?”

Hanabi points to a half-open closet full of blankets. 

“He said I can’t get out of bed yet, but I think he’ll get cold. Do you mind?”

Izumi nods, retrieving one of the dull, scratchy blankets from the closet.

“So what’re you doing around here?” Hanabi asks her.

“Well, I was just- I was just walking around,” Izumi lies. “And I got lost. I’m not used to this place.”

Hanabi giggles.

“Well I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been a little lonely.”

Izumi wants to smile, but the smile won’t come. She goes to drape the blanket over Kabuto’s unconscious body.

“...He’s not very nice,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“He’s not,” Hanabi agrees. “But he works really hard- he got my daddy up again after he lost his whole arm, after all.”

Izumi hums in acknowledgement-

-Then she shrieks, despite her best effort to contain it.

A yellow-eyed serpent pokes its head out from under the blanket, flicking its tongue out in displeasure.

Kabuto stirs, mumbling something half-coherent and reaching blindly to fix his glasses.

He swears, catapulting himself out of the chair.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?!” he snaps at Hanabi. The girl shrinks back.

“I uh- you were- I-”

“Don’t be so mean to her!” 

Izumi puts her hands on her hips, drawing herself up to her full miniscule height.

“She was trying to be nice to you, so don’t you dare get mad at her! You’re a medic, you should know everyone needs to sleep sometime!”

Kabuto huffs, and yet he doesn't argue. He snags a notebook off the metal table and starts rifling through it, muttering furiously to himself. Izumi watches him, wanting to ask a question but being afraid to.

Finally-

“-That thing you were doing before- with that chakra around your hand. What was it?”

Kabuto doesn't even look up.

“It’s better than a scalpel because it doesn't break the skin,” he explains, curtly. 

“How do you know you won’t hit anything important?” 

“You’re careful.”

“Will you teach me how?”

This finally gets Kabuto to raise his head.

“Come again?”

“I want you to teach me,” Izumi repeats. “Medic stuff, I mean.”

Kabuto snorts.

“Why would I do that?”

Izumi crosses her arms. 

“So I can rub it in Itachi-kun’s stupid face that I’m not the useless little girl that needs protecting he thinks I am.”

“Oh?”

Kabuto is quiet for a moment, fiddling with the arm of his glasses. He looks like he’s trying not to smile.

“...Long hair will get in the way,” he says, at last. “Take care of it first.”

He turns his attention to Hanabi, undoing the bandages across her face.

“How’s your vision in that eye?” he asks, having her track a pen back and forth.

“It’s mostly back to normal,” Hanabi answers. “It still hurts, but not as badly.”

“Well, that’s an improvement. I wanna keep a bandage on for another day or so, but that should be fine.”

Hanabi frowns over Kabuto’s shoulder at Izumi, who’s got a pair of medical shears and is hacking off handfuls of her long brown hair.

“Alright, I’m ready!”

Kabuto turns around, and jumps from surprise.

“What? You said get it out of the way!”

Kabuto’s eyebrow twitches.

“-I meant tie it back,” he grumbles. “But I suppose this works too.”

Izumi nods.

“Alright, so teach me.”

He motions for her to follow, so she does, waving a quick goodbye to Hanabi as she does.

“I’m not the most patient teacher, so I hope you can keep up,” he warns.

“Watch me,” Izumi answers him.

(He might actually be starting to like this girl.)


	9. Suna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We start with a flashback to before Danzo was completely irredeemable garbage, then move into a nightmare sequence, then to the fun happening in Suna. Rasa does not enjoy being washed-up. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: corpses, gore, nightmares, general mindfuckery

 

* * *

* * *

 

Danzo curses the rotten weather that’s popped up while he’s going through the forest, like it appeared solely to make his errand miserable. But for whatever reason he agreed to it, so he supposes he’ll just have to see it through.

He just hopes they were right about the location of where he’s supposed to go.

_ “Nobody’s seen her in a week. We just want you to go make sure she’s alright.” _

He enters a clearing in the trees, his eyes settling on a tiny, rundown house, all alone in the woods. Brushing his soaking-wet hair away from his face, he forges onward.

He grumbles, cursing at the gray the sky- but quickly falls silent, when another sound echoes over the falling rain. He follows it until he finds the source.

The first thing he notices is that Kiyohime has cut her hair. Well,  _ mutilated  _ might be a better word. 

It’s cut raggedly, unevenly, like she’d done it in a hurry. She’s soaked to the skin as well, like she’s been out here for awhile, plastering it against her head, highlighting the sharp line of her jaw and the narrow bridge of her nose. Somehow, it makes her even more androgynous, even more of a blend of masculine and feminine that always confused Danzo.

(Confused, but not entirely in a bad way.)

The second thing he notices is that she’s filthy.

Her plain clothes are covered in mud, as is the heavy shovel in her hands. She digs into the soggy ground steadily, but the hole keeps filling itself in with earth and water.

“What are you doing?” Danzo asks, snapping her to attention. She raises those striking gold eyes of hers toward him; they’re bloodshot and weary, but just as piercing as ever.

“Why do you care?” she hisses through her teeth.

“Because I was sent to see why you haven’t been in the village in days,” Danzo answers. “I need an answer for them.”

Kiyohime grimaces. Shuts her eyes for a moment. Then, she gestures with her head, to a neatly wrapped bundle of white sheets sitting under a small cluster of trees.

A wrapped bundle in the shape of a person.

“Who is-”

“-My father.”

Danzo’s brow furrows.

He remembers- quite well, actually- the time he’d seen the man, years ago and not very far from here. He remembers how the man had staggered about, that confused, helpless look, the lifeless, dull eyes-

“I’m sorry?” he offers, not sure what to say.

“Save it. It was going to happen no matter what, so sorry is pointless.”

She shovels out more muddy ground, futilely trying to make a hole large enough to bury the body in. He watches her for awhile, until her legs give out beneath her, the poor thing collapsing into the mud with a whimper.

Danzo sighs, grabbing the shovel’s handle.

“Let me-”

“-No, I have to-”

“-Don’t be stubborn.”

After a heartbeat of hesitation, her delicate hands relinquish the rough wooden handle. She stays huddled on the ground while Danzo takes his own shot at digging.

It takes what feels like an eternity, and a lot of frustration, but he finally manages to get a decent-sized hole dug. Despite his muscles burning in protest, he helps Kiyohime lay the wrapped body down in the makeshift grave.

She doesn't thank him, but he doesn't expect her to. He keeps an eye trained on her warily while they cover the body up.

“...Your hair,” he inquires, after a long silence. “Why did you cut it?”

He pretends not to be surprised when she actually answers him.

“My papa said that, in our clan, people only cut their hair once in their entire life.”

“Huh?”

Danzo lays the shovel against a tree trunk; Kiyohime rests on the stump of a fallen evergreen.

“When we cross the threshold to adulthood. When we shed our child’s skin and emerge to go out into the world on our own. Once, then never again.”

Danzo cocks his head.

“Clan?”

Kiyohime shrugs, twirling a kunai around in her hand just for the sake of something to do.

“There used to be hundreds of us. Maybe even thousands. But they’re gone, now. Papa didn’t even tell me our name- of course, he might not have remembered what it was.”

Danzo pulls a face. But Kiyohime doesn't comment on it.

“I guess we have that in common. Neither of us really knows where we came from.”

“How-”

“-Shimura. It’s the surname they give everyone that goes through the orphanage, right?

Right. He should’ve known.

“They should stop doing that. A name is important, after all. You can’t just give the same one to hundreds of people without thought.”

It’s Danzo’s turn to shrug.

“I’ve never really cared what people call me. It’s just noise, after all.”

Kiyohime smiles, even though she isn’t really happy.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

He feels his face grow warm. He shakes his head to clear it. She gets up, turning back toward her house.

“Tell whoever sent you that I’ll be back in the village soon. And not to worry about me.”

Danzo frowns.

He’s seen people lose loved ones before. Watched them sob and gnash their teeth and curse the gods. He’s seen mothers faint, fathers weep, seen children scream when their parents are put in the ground. But Kiyohime doesn't do any of that. She doesn't rage or wail or even shed a tear.

It makes him jealous, just a little bit, that level of self-restraint.

“Shimura,” she says, pausing in the doorway. “You’re sixteen, right?”

“Huh? Yeah, why?”

She laughs, a light, melancholy sound.

“If the both of us live to see seventeen, maybe I’ll take you out for a drink.”

He splutters, unable to come up with a response before she’s gone. He stands there in the rain, dumbstruck, for what feels like forever.

...He should head back now. Probably. 

 

* * *

* * *

It’s one of the few times since they’d been parted that Gaara is beginning to miss having Shukaku sealed inside him. If only to stave off the overwhelming exhaustion that’s beginning to take hold of him.

But still he carries on. For the sake of the village that’s counting on him- for the people he’d promised he’d protect.

One of Kankuro’s puppets shoots past him. He dodges a collapsing pillar. He’s only maybe thirty percent aware of his father’s demands to know what the hell is going on. His nose is bleeding quite profusely, but he doesn't have time to worry about that.

“Kazekage-sama!”

“Baki!” Gaara and his father answer in unison.

“Are you alright?!” Baki asks, blowing right past Rasa to get to Gaara.

“I’m fine,” Gaara insists, suddenly self-conscious about the river of blood pouring down his face. He accepts the bangages Baki offers him, and tries to stem the tide while they race through the village streets, fighting their way through hordes of soldiers in Leaf Village headbands. Kankuro eventually finds his way back to them, outraged and flustered.

“The hell is going on?!” he demands. Unlike when their father asked, this time Gaara answers.

“Well, he works fast,” he grumbles. “I expected a little more time before Konoha attacked us.”

“Well, what do we do?” Kankuro asks, recalling his puppets to his side.

“We protect our village,” Gaara answers, without hesitation. “No matter what.”

A small band of Suna Jonin find them.

“Kazekage-sama! Kankuro-sama! You’re okay!”

“We are.”

“Where’s the Daimyo?”

“Unfortunately he didn’t make it out,” Gaara answers, shaking his head.

Nobody pays Rasa any mind, and it’s starting to get on his nerves. Somehow, though, he doesn't really think this is the time to voice that particular concern.

“We need to keep moving,” Gaara says. “And keep getting civilians to safety.”

Murmurs of agreement all around. Kankuro leads them on, puppets at the ready.

They’re mostly on the outskirts of Suna right now. If they can stop the attack from getting deeper into the village, they’ll call that a good day.

 

* * *

_ Itachi is huddled on a barren, stone floor, naked aside from the Akatsuki cloak draped over his skinny shoulders. His long, midnight hair is loose, obscuring his face, and Kisame wants to call out to him, but his throat seems sealed shut, and he can’t make his body move to reach out to him. _

_ A rusted, heavy iron chain wraps twice around Itachi’s neck, stretching endlessly into the dark abyss before them. It rattles, sharp and jarring, and from the abyss emerges the triumphant form of Itachi’s younger brother. The chain around Itachi’s neck loops around his brother’s wrist, binding them together while the younger boy walks forward. _

_ “Niisan,” he calls out, in a light, almost playful voice. Itachi raises his head at the call, his hair falling away to reveal the gaping, bloody chasms where his failing eyes once rested. Revealing more of the graying skin that Kisame is sure is as deathly cold as it looks. _

_ Uchiha Sasuke kneels down, stroking his brother’s face with the back of his hand, while the other traces a kunai up his brother’s torso.  _

_ And still Kisame can’t seem to move or say a word. _

_ Itachi gently takes the kunai from Sasuke and, without hesitation, plunges it into his bare chest. There’s the horrible, wet sound of tearing muscle, the awful  _ **_crack_ ** _ of breaking bone. A sickening, squelching sort of sound, as Itachi hacks out his own heart. _

_ He holds it out toward Sasuke, clutched in a trembling, skeletal hand. _

_ “It’s yours,” he whispers, in a hoarse, barely-audible voice.  _

_ “I know, Niisan,” Sasuke purrs, standing up while cradling Itachi’s still-beating heart like it’s some long-lost treasure. “It’s always been mine.” _

_ He presses his lips against the heart, kissing it, smiling, practically  _ **_cooing._ ** _ He turns a wicked eye toward Kisame, bloodied lips curling further upward in a malicious smirk. _

_ “There’s no room in here for anyone but  _ **_me,_ ** _ isn’t that right, big brother?” he asks, rubbing his cheek against the slick muscle in a kittenish sort of way. Smearing yet more blood and viscera across his pale face.  _

_ Itachi nods, his head still reverently turned up toward Sasuke. His chest hangs open like a morbid cabinet, ribcage and sternum flung outward to reveal his ruined, blackening lungs, his cirrhosed liver, his ulcerated stomach, his abused and failing kidneys. _

_ Sasuke embraces him despite him being cut like a gutted fish, still holding onto Itachi’s heart in his right hand as he embraces Itachi with his left, pulling him onto unsteady feet, wrapping the tarnished chain tighter around them both. _

_ “I love you so, so much, big brother.” _

 

This is usually the point where Kisame wakes up, and it’s no different this time around. 

He’s not unaccustomed to bad dreams. He’s had his fair share in his life as a shinobi. But this- this recurring, unnaturally  _ vivid  _ nightmare- he can’t help the chill that settles in his blood every time he has it.

(And he’s had it a  _ lot  _ ever since Itachi died.)

At this point, he’d trade pretty much anything to get even a fraction of the peaceful rest Deidara seems to be having right now.

The clock on the wall ticks away, the only real sound in the room aside from Hidan’s quiet groaning. Deidara is dead asleep beside him, in the same shitty, uncomfortable chair he’s been sitting in for hours. His head rests millimeters from where their hands are still tangled together.

Envy isn’t an emotion Kisame is very familiar with, nor one he really likes. But right now- especially after having  _ that dream  _ again…

Hidan makes a quizzical kind of sound, looking over at where Kisame slumps over on the floor.

“Mind your own business,” Kisame grumbles, as though Hidan could understand. Or maybe he can? Who knows, anymore.

“K-Kisame-senpai?”

Chojuro creeps into the room, fidgeting anxiously, carrying a scroll with him.

“I-I wanted to give this back-”

“Give what back?”

Chojuro undoes the scroll, and releases the seal. The next moment, Samehada bursts from her wrapping, scurrying on its many insectoid legs into Kisame’s lap, whining with happiness. On instinct, Kisame pets Samehada’s rough skin, soothing her while she cries from joy at being reunited with her master.

Chojuro bows deeply, face flushed. His thick glasses slip down his nose but he doesn't go to fix them.

“Please forgive us,” the boy asks. “If I knew she would miss you so badly,I wouldn’t have let them separate you-”

“Shut it, brat.”

Chojuro flinches.

“Not like it was your call, anyway, so knock it off.”

The boy swallows his nerves. Hidan watches in half-lucid confusion. 

Deidara doesn't even stir.

Kisame almost feels bad when Chojuro gets a pitiful look on his face. But only almost.

He looks down at Samehada, now nestling contentedly in his lap.

(She’s the only one he can trust anymore.)

“I-I don’t know if it helps,” Chojuro mumbles, “b-but I thought- I mean, I’d already stolen the scroll off Ao- but I figured you’d want her back- I don’t think Mizukage-sama would’ve been able to find anyone else for her, anyway.”

Kisame shrugs his massive shoulders, not really feeling like talking. Finally, the poor boy scampers out of the room, fixing his glasses as he goes.

Deidara is still dead asleep.

Lucky him.

 

* * *

“What’s going on- _ ttebayo _ ?”

Naruto joins the legions of tired faces in the main meeting area, all looking at the Sannin who’re standing in the center- the ones who called them all in.

“We think Suna is gonna be Konoha’s first target,” Tsunade says, expression grave. “We need people to go help.”

“When?!” Temari demands, forcing her way through the crowd to be closer.

“Could be in a week. Could be happening right now. We don’t know.”

Temari looks angry and helpless, eyes wide and face bloodless.

“Then I have to go back-”

“-And you will,” Orochimaru assures her. “With reinforcements as well. Now then, who’s going?”

“We’ll go!” Rock Lee shouts, with affirming nods from his teammates.

“We’ll go too.”

“But Shikamaru, your arm-”

“-is just fine. We’re going.”

His teammates don’t argue with him any further.

“Me too!” Naruto insists. 

“If he goes, I’m going with him,” Sakura adds.

“Me too!” Hinata calls out.

There’s another small smattering of volunteers.

“Good. That should serve us. Now then-”

Orochimaru turns yellow eyes toward Mikoto.

“Will you be going as well?”

“Me? Why would I-”

“I thought they could use your talents- that is, if you don’t mind, Commander.”

Mikoto makes a small, surprised sound. Somewhere not too far away, Sasuke looks confused.

“Commander…?” he mutters.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been called that,” Mikoto says, with the barest hint of a smile. “Alright then. I’ll go, too.”

“Me too,” Sasuke says, finally.

“Alright, fine,” Temari says, arm folded impatiently. “Now what’s the fastest way to get from here to Suna?”

“-I can help with that.”

Eyes turn toward the overhang Obito has seated himself on.

“Kamui really cuts down on travel time, after all,” he continues. “So as soon as everyone is dressed and ready, I can take us there.”

People shuffle around to get equipment, to find friends and teammates. To wake themselves up properly before the trip. Naruto takes a few deep breaths to steady his nerves.

_ Hang on, Gaara. We’re coming. _

 

“Kiba, are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” Hinata asks softly.

“I’ll feel better when we make these fuckers hurt,” the boy answers, in a snarl. Hinata pulls a worried face, but she doesn't pester him further. Shino, for his part, is silent as ever.

(Kiba looks so lost. So naked and out of place without Akamaru by his side.)

Her heart is going a million miles an hour. They’re about to find out what war feels like, and she has a suspicion they’re not prepared.

But Naruto will be there- and she’d follow him down to hell if she had to.

 

“Sasuke-kun, why are you-”

Sasuke waves Sakura off with an annoyed sigh.

“I’m pissed off and planning to vent some of my anger on some poor bastards who have nothing to do with it. Is that a problem?”

Sakura huffs.

“Well, if that’s what you want.”

“Is this everyone?” Mikoto asks, when the commotion starts to settle.

“You never told me you were a commander,” Sasuke complains, instead of answering.

“You never asked,” Mikoto answers. “Now then-”

She does a silent headcount, crimson eyes scanning the room carefully. While she does, Naruto scoots closer to Obito, who’s waiting impatiently beside Kakashi.

“Hey, uh-”

The boy pulls at the back of his neck.

“I uh- we didn’t start off on the best foot, did we  _ dattebayo _ ? I wanna- I mean-”

He musters up a smile, and holds his fist out.

“Nice to meet ya!” he manages.

Obito raises an eyebrow, not even bothering to unfold his arms. He raises his head up.

“I’m ready.”

Naruto’s face falls, shoulders slumping in defeat. He pouts, glaring at his knuckles for a moment.

He’s still pouting when they bunch up together to go.

 

“Oh, that reminds me-”

Orochimaru taps the flat of his fist against the palm of his other hand.

“I’ve got some business to see to, so I’ll be having to tag along!”

“Wait what?!” Jiraiya protests.

“I won’t be long,” Orochimaru promises, looping his arms around Tsunade to hug her from behind. 

“-And  _ we’ll  _ finish off what we started when I get back,” he adds, squeezing Tsunade’s breast for a split second before darting away.

“Hey, the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” she howls indignantly.

“Be seeing you!” Orochimaru chirps, ducking into the crowd.

“I want half of us to go into the village itself to get rid of any hostiles that already made it through,” Mikoto says, taking on a stern tone of voice. “The rest of us will set up a perimeter to keep anyone else out.”

A mutter of affirmation sweeps through the crowd.

 

In half a second, Kamui has swept away everyone headed for Suna. Jiraiya turns toward Tsunade, eyebrow raised high.

“What did he mean by  _ finish off what we started _ ?” he asks, in a meaningful tone.

“Shut up,” Tsunade warns him.

He doesn't listen.

“Come on, don’t tell me you guys-”

“-Don’t pretend you didn’t already!” Tsunade snaps.

“That was- I-”

Jiraiya stops himself, realizing he’s being jealous. 

“...We’ll talk to him once he’s back,” Tsunade offers.

“Yeah,” Jiraiya mumbles. “Good plan.”

-

When they emerge from Kamui, they’re greeted with absolute bedlam. Remembering Mikoto’s order, half of them immediately rush inward toward the heart of Sunagakure.

Mikoto shouts some orders to get the others organized in making a perimeter.

Sakura and Sasuke fall in on either side of Naruto as he rushes forward.

“You got a plan our are you just being stupid?” Sasuke asks.

“I’m gonna get to Gaara!” Naruto answers, indignantly.

“Being stupid then.”

“I’m not letting him down again _ -ttebayo _ ! I can help him this time!”

Naruto grits his teeth, rushing forward straight toward a brick wall in their path.

The wall doesn't stand a chance.

“Rasengan!” he yells, blasting it open in the blink of an eye, not faltering or slowing down.

(He won’t fail like he did last time. He won’t let anyone down again.)

 

“Hey, are we late?”

Gaara blinks. Lee smiles and waves at him, from atop a pile of unconscious bodies.

“It’s been a long time! I missed you!”

A brief pause. Then-

Sand wraps itself around Lee and yanks him forward. Neji and Tenten cry out a “what the fuck-” in protest.

Gaara grabs Lee and hugs him tightly. 

“You’re safe.”

Lee nods, hugging him back with equal enthusiasm.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

“I’ll live.”

Lee grins, overcome with relief. His teammates overcome their shock, and they gather around to talk out what they want to do next.

Rasa merely stares, dumbfounded.

“Surprised?”

He leaps into the air from shock. Orochimaru laughs at him.

“Did I sneak up on you?”

Rasa refuses to answer.

“Your children are doing quite well for themselves, don’t you think?”

A scowl.

“Aw, are you angry with me? I suppose I should have seen that coming.”

“You really should have,” Rasa snarks back. “Considering you killed me.”

“I did, didn’t I? No hard feelings?”

Rasa half wants to scream from confusion, half wants to punch Orochimaru in his smug face. 

He winds up doing neither.

“Found you!”

A blur of blond hair and orange misses knocking him over by millimeters. 

“I was so worried something happened-  _ dattebayo _ !”

“Oh, Naruto. You made it.”

Gaara doesn't seem the least bit surprised. 

“Naruto?” Rasa mutters.

“Minato and Kushina’s son,” Orochimaru answers. 

Rasa gets a sudden, uncontrollable twitch in his left eye.

“Right. They procreated.”

“Be fair, Rasa. I think you’ll find him rather interesting.”

“It always makes me nervous when  _ you  _ call anything interesting.”

A sudden explosion makes the ground shake, rattling them back to attention.

An unfortunate Konoha nin winds up impaled on Orochimaru’s sword; Orochimaru doesn't bother to look over at who he’s stabbed.

“How dull,” Orochimaru mutters. “We’ll have to continue this conversation some other time.”

A wall of sand surges upward, burying about a dozen enemy shinobi. Gaara does his minimalist impression of annoyance.

“That’d be a good idea,” he says, with the barest bit of a scowl.

“Guys,” Tenten interrupts, taking a cautious step backward. “We got company.”

Sakura draws closer to Naruto, hands balling into fists. Sasuke’s eyes go scarlet, taking in everything as they dart around. Neji raises his head up, taking in all he can with his Byakugan.

Naruto grins.

“Well let’s tell ‘em hello then!” he declares.

(Ten on one hundred. Those odds sound pretty good.)

  
  



	10. What must be done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fighting in Suna. The Sannin continue to be horny bastards. Konan needs all the hugs. A certain someone makes his reappearance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: chemical warfare, implied past prostitution

It’s been a long time since Mikoto’s been out on the battlefield. Ages since she’s had her heart racing like this, fought like this. Explosions pop off all around her, muffling the shouts of the combatants on both sides. Adrenaline hums in her veins, lighting up every nerve in her body. Sharingan turns the whirlwind of sights around her into crisp, clear images she can comprehend perfectly.

Yes. Oh,  _ yes.  _ She missed this so  _ very  _ badly.

Tsume’s son goes flying past her, a whirlwind of wild, unrestrained anger. 

(It’s so strange to see an Inuzuka without their dog. Mikoto feels awful for him, really.)

“Get behind me!” she yells at his teammates; Hinata and Shino unquestioningly obey her.

The seals for the fireball jutsu come as naturally as breathing. The poor souls trying to advance into Sunagakure don’t stand a chance.

The scorching heat of the fireball overwhelms the heat of the rising desert sun- the unfortunate Konoha nin don’t have enough time to know what hit them.

Beside her, a deafening chirping sound erupts. There’s a crunch and a groan, then silence.

“They’re not really pulling any punches,” Kakashi remarks.

“Yeah they are,” Mikoto replies. “Unless Konoha’s gotten soft since I died.”

She looks around, spotting Hinata quickly.

“Where’d Naruto go?” she asks.

“He went with Sakura-chan and Sasuke to find the Kazekage, I think,” Hinata answers, scanning the horizon. “Yes, um, about five kilometers in. I think they found him?”

Mikoto nods.

“Danzo will wanna get hold of him,” she says, more to herself than anyone else. “So it’s important we always know where he’s going.”

Kakashi makes a low sound of agreement.

“He’ll be after all three of them,” he adds. “You know he wants to get back at Itachi and Tsunade-sama both, so Sakura and Sasuke are gonna be targets too.”

“If they’re with the Kazekage, I won’t worry about them. For now- you’ve got some Iwa on your left. Let’s focus on them.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Oh-”

Mikoto falls in beside Kiba, offering a fresh cloth to him.

“-You’ve got some arterial spray on your face, hon.”

Kiba grumbles something, haphazardly making an attempt to wipe the blood off.

She surveys the endless sea of sand, counting the amount of soldiers still standing.

Not too bad. She’s faced worse odds before, so-

She ducks behind a dune and waits, oh-so-patiently, for those unsuspecting Iwa nin to come by.

They don’t even have enough time to act surprised.

 

“I still don’t see why you had to come!”

“Y’know Temari, you lecturing me while we’re in the middle of a fight is a real fucking drag!”

Temari knocks out the guy she’s dealing with, still glaring at Shikamaru.

“The  _ real fucking drag  _ here is that you dragged your dumb ass out here while you’re hurt!”

“The hell was I supposed to do?!” Shikamaru snaps back at her. “Hang around knowing that bastard’s in the next room over and probably itching to take another bite outta me?!”

Temari glowers at him, yet doesn't really have a retort.

“Just don’t do anything else stupid.”

She hears a guy behind her yelp. Then watches him be dragged away, hoisted by his own shadow.

“Be careful. He coulda gotten you.” 

“I am careful!”

Shikamaru rolls his eyes.

“Hey Chouji, you ‘n Ino alright over there?!”

“We’re fine!”

He turns back to Temari.

“What about your brothers? Shouldn’t you go find them?”

“My brothers don’t need protecting,” she says, flatly. “But my village does. That’s why I’m here.”

A hum of acknowledgement.

"And what about your dad?" 

Cheeky bastard. But Temari smiles anyway.

"I'll kick his ass later."

 

* * *

Yahiko isn’t sure if he wants to cry his heart out, throw up, or break something. Or maybe do all three at once.

Rather than choose, he does none of those, instead laying his head against Nagato’s chest.

Well. The chest that  _ used  _ to be Nagato’s.

He’s still now. Perfectly still. Perfectly quiet, as well- although, Nagato was always quiet. He lays there in the bed of origami flowers Yahiko is sure Konan must have made for him, as peacefully as though he were sleeping.

But, if he were sleeping, his chest would be moving. His heart would be beating. And his body wouldn’t be so wretchedly cold.

It’s not fair. It’s not right. Yahiko desperately wishes he could breathe his own life into the corpse he’s resting on, trade places with him- anything to bring his dear, dead friend to life again.

Though, really, what sort of life would he be bringing Nagato back to?

That hair that used to be so brilliantly red has long ago gone snow-white, lost its luster, become thin and brittle and rough when Yahiko touches it. His cheeks are hollow, sunken-in, and his collarbone looks ready to burst through his ashen, paper-thin skin.

Even though Nagato is dressed in the familiar, heavy black-and-crimson robes of Akatsuki, Yahiko can still feel Nagato’s ribs, sharp and unforgiving against his cheek. His hands are twisted, gnarled and painful to even look at. Yahiko has to close his eyes.

“...I’m sorry,” he murmurs, in this voice that still feels so alien to him.

“How did you find this place?”

Konan sounds so  _ tired.  _ He hates that.

“I- I remembered when we’d come here as kids. I figured, maybe…”

Yahiko can’t summon the energy to open his eyes to look at her.

“...I just needed to see him for myself. I needed to be with him- just for a little while. I’m sorry.”

Konan sighs- a soft, forlorn sound.

“Why is he- what happened to him?”

Yahiko is surprised when she answers him.

“...He was given power that was too strong for him,” she says, her voice painfully small. “It destroyed him, but it was the only thing keeping him alive. After he was injured, he felt like he had no other choice.”

Yahiko chokes on the weight of his own emotions.

“I don’t understand how this happened. Jiraiya-sensei said Nagato was-”

“-Why do you give a damn what Jiraiya said?!” Konan snaps, suddenly losing the softness in her voice. “He  _ abandoned  _ us, Yahiko! He abandoned us, then Hanzo attacked us, you died and Nagato was crippled! Do you think any of that would have happened if he’d stayed?!”

Yahiko straightens up, suddenly indignant himself.

“We knew he couldn’t stay forever!” he snaps back at her. “We had to make it on our own sometime!”

“Nagato begged him to stay!” Konan shouts back. “We weren’t ready! Look what happened after he left- I can’t  _ believe  _ you’re defending him!”

She sounds more wounded than anything. Yahiko almost feels bad for what he’s said. And yet-

“Sensei always had a reason for doing what he did,” he says, standing up to leave. “You can’t blame him for what happened.”

“I can,” Konan retorts, staying in the room with Nagato’s body. “And I will. I have no forgiveness for him.”

Yahiko wants to argue more, but he feels like that would be pointless. So, instead, he leaves.

 

Once Yahiko has left her in peace, Konan breaks down in bitter tears. She drops to her knees, grabbing one of Nagato’s icy, skeletal hands as if it could ease her sorrow.

How?! How could Yahiko stand there and dare to defend the man who abandoned them?! Why didn’t he understand?!

Well. Of course he couldn’t. After all, he didn’t hear how Nagato had howled in anguish after Yahiko died in his arms. He hadn’t seen the way he’d raged and screamed when Hanzo murdered all their friends in cold blood. 

He hadn’t heard how Nagato screamed in agony when the Gedo statue pierced his back. Hadn’t seen how it’d quickly withered him away into a frail shell of how he’d once been. He didn’t see how each and every loss the new Akatsuki endured killed Nagato a little more inside.

She remembers how Nagato had grieved when they lost Sasori. How he’d mourned the death of Kakuzu, the disappearance of Hidan. How he’d fallen into despair when they received the news that Deidara had died. She remembers how Nagato wept when Zetsu arrived, bearing Itachi’s battered, lifeless body, mangled so horribly that even looking at him hurt. 

She vividly remembers the fervor with which he insisted Itachi’s barely-alive younger brother be tended to, and the wretched sorrow in his face when he and Konan had helped Kisame clean up Itachi’s corpse- the only one they’d ever been able to give a proper funeral.

Nagato suffered. He suffered deeply, and Konan had suffered with him.

Yahiko hadn’t been there for any of it.

So, of course Yahiko wouldn’t understand their grief. How could he?!

He hadn’t seen how Nagato had hurt and suffered because Jiraiya didn’t protect them. So, Yahiko has no right,  _ no right _ to stand there and try to defend that bastard.

Her angry tears drip off her nose and onto Nagato’s face, rolling down his wasted cheek as if he’s crying with her. 

...the worst part about feeling this way is that she’s not allowed to linger on it. The time to sit and grieve is a luxury she can’t afford herself. Because that bastard,  _ that bastard  _ who framed the old Akatsuki, framed Yahiko,  _ taken  _ everything from them, will be coming after her village. The village she and Nagato made together, forged in fire and blood and pain.

So. she will protect this village with fire and blood and pain. Down to her last breath, if she has to.

She stands. Wipes the tears from her face. Dusts off her robes. Leaves Nagato’s body behind. She faces the leader of the village’s army, organizes defenses. Creates evacuation plans for the civilians. She does everything she has to to make sure her village will survive.

She can’t be weak. Not yet. Not when the village still relies on her to be its angel.

 

* * *

Sakura doesn't get out even a word of protest before Sasuke shoves his own bloody, wadded-up shirt over her mouth, muffling her outraged cry.

There’s a pop. Then a shrill hissing. More quickly follow, filling the air with a strange smell- like hay left out in the rain too long.

“What’s-” Naruto tries to say.

“-Don’t breathe it in!” Sasuke snaps.

“Breathe what i-”

Neji’s question is answered when Lee doubles over, coughing and rubbing at his eyes. Naruto gags, covering his mouth in his jacket just so he can breathe. Sasuke removes his shirt from Sakura’s mouth to cover his own. Sakura pulls a length of bandages off her arm to wrap over her face; the rest quickly follow suit.

“We need to get higher up,” Sasuke tells them. “This stuff’s heavier than the rest of the air- it’s safer higher up.”

“How the hell do you-”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow.

“Funny enough, you learn a few things about poisonous stuff when you spend three years with Orochimaru.” he deadpans.

Naruto wants to argue, but has a feeling his burning eyes are an indication that he should save it for later.

“Higher ground, then,” Gaara says. So they head upward, onto the rooftops where the air is clearer. 

“Where’d Orochimaru go?” Sakura mumbles.

“With my father I think,” Gaara answers. “To help the last evacuees get underground.”

“To hell with both of ‘em,” Kankuro grumbles. “Where do we go from here?”

A sudden cry of distress answers the question for them. Gaara is back on the ground before any of the rest of them can react. They follow after him, plunging back into the sickly air below.

“Mommy, my eyes hurt!” a child cries out. “Mommy, where are you?!” 

“I thought we evacuated everyone!” Kankuro yells. 

“We were supposed to!” Gaara shouts back.

His sand wraps around a petrified little boy, pulling the child in to grab hold of him.

The boy yelps in surprise, but holds on tight all the same.

“Kazekage-sama, I-I can’t find my mommy!” he chokes out, fighting for every breath.

Gaara gives up his own cloth to the child, the barest hint of a scowl on his face.

“Kankuro, take him,” He says, passing the boy over. “Take him underground and find his mother.”

“You gonna be okay?” 

Gaara nods, even though bright red blisters are already forming across his face, and his breath has a strange, rattling sound to it. Kankuro frowns, but he doesn't fight the order.

“Be safe,” he urges, then disappears.

“And what about us?” Tenten asks.

“We find who set off the gas bombs and deal with them.”

They retreat back to the safety of the Suna rooftops. Sasuke rakes his nails across his chest as if he wants to scrape off the bright welts swelling up across it.

“You’re gonna make them worse,” Sakura scolds him.

(her scolding loses a bit of its punch due to her scratching at one of her arms.)

“I  _ know  _ that, but it itches like hell!”

“I see someone,” Neji interrupts. “Half a kilometer west.”

They follow his lead, jumping from one rooftop to the next.

“Steady,” he says, though who he’s warning isn’t clear.

Naruto doesn't listen. He spots a figure in an Anbu mask, surrounded by corpses, and lunges for him.

“Hey, asshole!” he cries out. “Over here!”

His blow misses by millimeters, instead knocking the person’s mask off.

“Rude!” 

That voice-

The ceramic mask shatters when it hits the wall of a building. Naruto stumbles backward, mouth agape in shock.

“What’s the matter?” Sai asks. “Are you unhappy to see me?”

 

* * *

* * *

“I got us some bread.”

Konan glances up; Nagato breaks the bread in half, offering her the larger piece. She accepts it with a small sound of gratitude. He sits down beside her, under the battered awning that shelters them from the rain.

(He’s got a few new marks on his neck. She’ll have to help him cover those up.)

“Are you okay?” Nagato asks, softly. 

Konan bows her head, the bread suddenly bitter in her mouth.

“...I’ll be alright,” she answers. “The guy was...well, he was gentle, at least. Could’ve been worse.”

Nagato winces, drawing in on himself with a sad sigh.

“...You don’t have to- I can manage on my own,” he tells her. But Konan adamantly shakes her head.

(He’s been telling her this adamantly, ever since he found out she’s been selling herself to fund Akatsuki. Ever since he’d joined her. That he could take it alone. That she doesn't have to degrade herself. She’d tried to dissuade him, but-

_ “-I’m pretty enough, right? Someone’ll pay for me. And if that means they don’t touch you- I-I’ll do anything!” _

-It’s impossible to dissuade Nagato when he’s heart-set on something.)

“Keeping everyone fed and clothed is a lot of money,” she says. “If both of us keep- well, we’ll only have to do half the work, right?”

She tries too hard to sound like it’s no big deal. But Nagato doesn't buy it one bit.

(Damn Rinnegan. He’s too perceptive for his own good.)

“It won’t be forever,” she tries to reassure him. “We’ll make it through.”

Nagato grimaces.

“What if Yahiko finds out?”

“He won’t.”

Konan says this mostly to convince herself. Because if she’s wrong- she isn’t sure that Yahiko will ever look at them the same way, and she’s not sure she could bear that. The hurt look she knows Yahiko would give her when he finds out they lied. That minor odd-jobs and basic missions weren’t nearly enough to keep everyone fed and clothed and safe.

(would he even be able to touch her again if he knew what she’d done?)

He takes her hand in his, brushing scarlet hair out of the way with the other.

“I trust you then,” he says. “I know it’ll be alright- it’s like Sensei said- today sucks. But tomorrow it might suck less; the only way to know is to be there.”

She smiles. Hugs him close. And tries desperately to believe their words.

 

* * *

* * *

Tsunade is convinced that she’s completely out of her mind. 

She has to be, to be crammed in a utility closet, grinding desperately in Jiraiya’s lap while she kisses him like the world is ending. He groans against her mouth, large, rough hands groping like a blind man in the dark.

If Orochimaru kissed her like he was starving, Jiraiya kisses like he’d die the moment their lips dare to part.

How exactly they wound up like this, she’s still not entirely sure. One moment they’re arguing about Orochimaru. They’d both been livid, screaming at each other. Throwing things, even. And the next thing she knows-

A calloused hand slides into her shirt, making her gasp when the palm of it brushes her nipple.

His mouth leaves hers at last, biting gently at her jaw, then at her neck. Jiraiya groans like he’s reached nirvana, stormy gray eyes riveted, unable to leave her body.

(Why hadn’t she ever done this before, exactly?)

“Orochimaru isn’t being honest with us,” she breathes, trying to still keep their conversation on track despite their distraction.

“No shit,” Jiraiya answers, his mouth still on her neck.

“So, what do we do about it? We can’t let him keep it up, y’know.” 

A shrug. 

“He’s always been a liar. I dunno how we change that now.”

They get lost in kissing again, but Jiraiya’s brain still works furiously.

Tsunade is right. Orochimaru is hiding from them- the question is what they’re going to do about it, knowing that.

If he’s being honest- he has an idea. But he’s pretty sure if he says it out loud, she’s gonna call him an idiot.

Ah well- no different than normal. Might as well.

The more he talks, the more incredulous Tsunade looks. Until finally-

“-That may be the stupidest idea I’ve heard in my life.”

“You got a better one?”

Tsunade grumbles. Mulls it over for awhile. And then…

“I guess we don’t have anything to lose by trying.”

She whines impetuously when he pushes her head away as she tries to kiss him again.

“Well then, we should save it for when he gets back.”

 


	11. Need you here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke very badly needs a hug. Rasa got his ass kicked back during his Chuunin exam and he's still salty about it. Mikoto gives Orochimaru a warning and Danzo continues to be Danzo.
> 
> Oh, and Deidara continues to be a diva. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK what made me more uncomfy- writing Danzo blatantly misgendering our beloved Snek Overlord, or the fact that he's talking to a headstone.

“You let him go?!”

Karin beats her fists futilely against Kabuto’s chest, scarlet and breathless from anger and fear.

“You know people are gonna be trying to kill him!” she howls. “He could get hurt! He could  _ die  _ out there and you just let him-”

“-I’m not his babysitter,” Kabuto growls, putting a hand on Karin’s forehead and shoving her away from him. “And besides- even if I told him not to go, what makes you think he’d listen to me?”

“He has a point,” Shisui chimes in, meekly. “I mean- Sasuke pretty much always just does what he wants, anyway. If he wanted to go, I don’t think anything could keep him from going.”

Karin doesn't seem at all comforted by this. She hugs her arms close to herself, letting out a keening whine of distress.

“Oh, if something happens to him-”

“-Hey, didn’t his mom go to Suna, too?” Shisui asks.

“Huh? I think so?”

Karin seems nearly offended when Shisui smiles.

“Then you don’t gotta worry.”

“Eh?! How the hell could I-”

“-She might not look it, but Mikoba is one scary lady. If anyone touches so much as a hair on Sasuke’s head, the best they can hope is that she kills ‘em quick. Sasuke’ll be fine, so you don’t gotta worry your pretty little head over it.”

Karin starts wringing her hands anxiously, drawing in a great gust of air.

“...Okay,” she finally relents. “Okay. If his mom is there, he’ll be fine, right?”

“That’s right.”

Kabuto huffs, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“If we’re done here, I’ve got better things to be doing with my time.”

Karin doesn't seem to have anything else to say. Shisui, however-

“How come Itachi didn’t go too? I mean, if Sasuke went, wouldn’t he wanna?”

“I need him here,” Kabuto replies. “We’re using up way too much anaesthetic to keep our resident religious zealot sedated, so his genjutsu is useful when I need people to be asleep.”

Shisui frowns. Scratches his head. Izumi comes up behind Kabuto, holding one of his myriad notebooks.

“Um, that guy you were working on earlier is awake,” she says, looking up at him with those pretty brown eyes of hers. “He wants to know if he’s okay to get up.”

“Hell no,” Kabuto replies, grabbing the notebook from her. “I’m still not sure if I’m gonna have to amputate that leg, and I don’t need him putting weight on it and making things worse.”

“I’ll tell him that,” Izumi says. “What about Hana-chan? She wants to know when she’s good to help too.”

“If she feels up to it, she can do what she likes.”

Karin follows Izumi when she wanders back off, to help while she makes her rounds. Kabuto heads off as well, to do whatever it is he’s planning now. And Shisui is left alone, feeling quite stupid standing there.

He kinda wishes he’d gone to Suna, too- but Karin’s hand on his arm had managed to shut him up. She was worried about him, he knows that- but he can’t help but be annoyed at her for it.

His heart drops into his stomach when Itachi materializes in his peripheral vision, but he’s not really sure what.

(Itachi looks so defeated. Broken down. Nothing like how he’d been before…)

“Hey, ‘Tachi-” he tries to say, but trails off, losing what he was trying to tell him.

Itachi stops whatever it is he’s doing. He folds his arms, stubbornly turning his head away so he doesn't have to look at Shisui.

“...’Tachi I’m sorry,” Shisui finally manages.

Silence. Painful, deafening silence, broken up only by the low hum of the blinding lights overhead.

Then-

“You should’ve dragged me into the river with you.”

Shisui’s stomach does a backflip. His blood goes cold. 

Itachi speaks the words flatly, like they don’t mean anything at all. But they hurt Shisui badly, pierce the skin of his psyche like a hundred little knives.

There are no words in the world to comfort Itachi. To soothe the sorrow in his heart, or to soothe Shisui’s guilty conscience. 

He wishes, really wishes that he could just hug Itachi tightly and pretend everything could be okay- that everything is the way it was back then, before everything went to shit. To kiss him like he’d used to, to see Itachi blush the way he had back then.  To see that small, shy smile that never failed to make Shisui’s heart leap for joy.

It’s all a fantasy, of course. Because in reality, Itachi is no longer thirteen. He’d grown up, moved on, while Shisui stayed stagnant, stuck. Still fifteen, not quite sixteen, still the  _ boy  _ he’d died as years before.

It’s a fantasy of course. But Shisui still  _ wishes.  _ Still feels guilty, even though it’s  _ Danzo  _ who did them wrong, that badger, that  _ bastard _ who stole their happiness from them. Who stole that smile off Itachi’s face.

And Shisui watched, helplessly, while he did it.

Just like he’s helpless now.

Itachi disappears somewhere on Shisui’s blind side. Shisui kind of wants to cry, but he knows it won’t do any good; besides, his eye still really hurts, and he knows it’ll only make things worse.

(Being lonely fucking sucks.)

 

* * *

“Something on your mind, Rasa?”

Rasa wants to ignore the question, but Orochimaru is watching him, eyebrow raised, obviously wanting an answer. So-

“-I swear that Uchiha looks familiar,” he mutters, shaking his head. “But there’s no way I’ve ever-”

“I’m not surprised,” Orochimaru chuckles. “He takes after his mother, after all.”

“Mothe-”

A great  _ whoosh _ ing sound fills the air, causing a stir amongst the masses of civilians. Mikoto bursts from the Kamui, Kakashi and Obito at her heels.

“We’ve got the northern border secure,” she informs Orochimaru. “These two and I are headed south to get that side locked down as well.”

Orochimaru nods approvingly.

“Fine by me, commander.”

“Where’s Sasuke?” she demands, in a far more urgent tone.

“Last I saw, he, Naruto-kun and their lady friend were accompanying the Kazekage to get a few things from his office. I suspect they won’t be much longer. Oh dear, Rasa, you’ve gone a funny color.”

Realization dawns on Mikoto, and she smiles.

“I  _ thought  _ I recognized you! I haven’t seen you since our Chuunin exam- how have you been?” 

Rasa feels that twitch in his eye coming on again.

“...I can safely say I’ve been worse,” he replies, folding his arms tightly. Trying to maintain some modicum of dignity.

“-Hey, whose kid is this?!” 

Kankuro comes barrelling in like a bat out of hell, carrying a little boy in his arms. His breath comes in great rattling gasps; the child in his arms hacks up a frightening amount of a strange, whitish fluid. A woman breaks free from the crowd, sobbing in relief and reaching to hug the boy- but Orochimaru rushes forward and pushes her away, ignoring her outraged howl.

“What happened?” he asks, even though it looks like he already knows.

“Some sort of gas bomb went off,” Kankuro answers. 

“Phosgene, from the look of things.”

Orochimaru seems to mostly be talking to himself, looking over the child’s angry red skin. “Not normally fatal, but certainly unpleasant.”

“Didn’t everyone agree to ban that shit at the end of the last war?” Rasa snipes.

“You say that like Konoha is going to care about what the civilized world decided,” Orochimaru replies. Then addresses the child’s mother.

“If you touch him while he’s in that state, you’ll be injured too,” he explains. “We have to wash it off him first.”

“But he-”

“He’ll be alright,” Rasa chimes in. “I know you’re his mother, but you won’t do any good by hurting yourself for his sake.”

He blinks, not quite sure where those words came from. But they seem to comfort the woman,so he tries not to dwell on it too much.

(They feel like something Karura would’ve said, almost like she’d taken over his throat for a few precious moments.)

Kankuro takes the boy off to get both of them cleaned up. 

“We’ll be going then,” Obito says, in a clipped tone.

“Just one more thing first,” Mikoto says. 

She takes a step forward. Drops her voice low. Eyes narrowed, face blank- Orochimaru can  _ definitely  _ see where Itachi got that scary look of his.

“I’ve heard things about you,” she says, flatly.

“Oh?”

“Not very nice things. And I just want to let you know-”

Suddenly she’s far too close for his liking. Drawn up to her full (albeit minute) height, looking him dead in the eye, Sharingan on full display.

“-If I ever even hear a  _ hint _ that you did anything to Sasuke-”

Orochimaru raises a hand, cutting her off.

“-I was waiting for you to say something,” he says, ignoring the rage in her eyes at his interruption.”Rumors are stubborn things, after all.”

Her eyes might as well be burning holes through him. He raises his hands, palms-up, as if to show her he has nothing to hide.

“I’m not that sort of person, Commander. I swear on my mother’s grave.”       

Mikoto is quiet, the gears in her head turning. Eventually, she seems to conclude that Orochimaru is being genuine.

“...If you’re lying to me,” she warns, “I’ll castrate you and shove them down your throat so far you’ll choke.”

“I’m aware,” Orochimaru accepts, with the barest hint of a smile.

Kakashi jabs a thumb upward, at the ceiling of the endless sandstone tunnel.

“We should head back up, in case more shit goes down.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They’re gone, with another  _ whoosh  _ and a rush of air. 

“...People really don’t change,” Rasa mumbles.

Orochimaru just shrugs.

“I’ll see to that child. Keep an eye out for any stragglers.”

“Don’t think you can order me around!” Rasa barks, even though he has every intention of obeying the request.

Grumbling, defeated, he does as he’s been asked.

 

* * *

“I thought you- where’ve you- your note said-”

Naruto can’t get a full sentence out. He’s too flustered, too overcome with relief. 

“Good to see you too,” Sai says, through a light titter of laughter. “Miss me?” 

Sakura’s green eyes sweep over the burns, cuts and scrapes and gashes that cover his pallid skin.

“What happened?” she asks.

“What I said would happen in my note,” Sai answers, with a small shrug. “I did manage to convince some of the others to ditch Danzo-sama, but it turned into just a little bit of a kerfuffle. Turns out some of us are a bit too invested to leave Danzo-sama just yet.”

“Well, let me-”

“-None of you are touching me til you get that shit washed off you. You all look like death and I’m not interested in ending up the same way.”

Sakura scowls, but she realizes he’s right, so she doesn't protest his stubbornness.

Sai falls into step alongside them, leaving the bodies behind while Gaara leads the way to the enormous office building at the heart of Sunagakure. He seems his usual cheerful self, if a bit beaten-down and weary. So despite him being as abrasive and blunt as ever, Naruto can’t help the joy that wells up in him, knowing his friend is okay.

“What do you want us to do?” Lee asks, when they finally make it to the main office.

“There are showers on the lower level,” Gaara replies. “And I think some spare uniforms. You guys can hurry and wash off- I’ve got my own in my office, so I’ll use that once I’ve gotten what I need. We  _ are  _ in the desert though, so please go easy on the water.”

Murmurs of agreement, and they go their separate ways. Sakura and Tenten make their way to the women’s showers while the rest use the other one on the opposite end of the hall.

The moment he’s got his clothes off, Lee is blasting one of the shower faucets directly at his face, trying to flush the awful stuff out of his eyes.  Neji attempts to scrub the stink out of his long, dark hair.

“Smells like a farm,” he complains, nose scrunched up in disgust. 

“Could be worse,” Sasuke says. “We could get higher up without a lot of trouble. If we were still breathing that shit in I’d be worried.”

“It doesn't seem right though,” Neji retorts. “Like they’re just fucking with us, not actually being serious. I wonder…”

He scowls, losing himself in his train of thought.  Sai picks it right back up.

“I overheard that Danzo-sama was planning an assault on Kumo around this time,” he says, his tone as flat as ever. “Maybe you got played for a bunch of suckers, while the real attack is happening over there?”

“What the hell  _ dattebayo _ ! Why didn’t you start with that in the first place?!”

“I figured you guys had already considered that before you came over here, Sai answers, turning his showerhead around so it blasts Naruto straight in the face. “I should’ve known you came charging in here without a lot of thought.”

“Hey- fucking  _ quit  _ that!” Naruto splutters around a mouthful of lukewarm water.

“You’re still a dumbass, aren’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Hey, no fighting!” Lee pleads. “We can’t be wasting our energy!”

“You’re right,” Sai agrees, still smiling that tight, fake smile that’s practically his trademark. “My bad.”

Naruto grumbles under his breath, but relents, and goes back to washing himself off.

He glances over at Sasuke, sitting silently under the water, charcoal eyes distant, like his mind is far away.

“...You okay?” Naruto asks.

Sasuke surprises him when he actually answers.

“The hell do you think, dumbass?” 

Naruto frowns.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, not really.”

Naruto frowns.

“Well...if you change your mind, I’m right here- _ ttebayo. _ ”

Sasuke doesn't make any indication that he’s even heard Naruto speak. He stays put, even when everyone else heads out to find clothes.

“...You comin’ or what?” Naruto asks, holding out a towel. Sasuke makes no move to take it from him.

“Hey, c’mon, everyone’s gonna be waiting for us.”

Finally, Sasuke stands up from the shower bench, reaching mechanically to turn the water off.

“...I don’t get you,” he finally says.

“Eh? Whaddaya mean?”

“-Sakura was right. I ditched you guys. I ran away. I was gone for so long, but you still act like we’re friends.”

“But we  _ are  _ friends!” Naruto insists. “Just because you- I mean, I know you were- but I never-”

Out of nowhere, Sasuke’s arms are around him, his face burying itself in the crook of his neck.

Naruto yelps.

“W-what the fuck are you doing- _ ttebayo _ ?!” he demands, words crashing into each other while his heart leaps up into his throat.

“Shut up for once in your life,” Sasuke retorts, his voice far softer than his words warrant. “Just…”

He hugs Naruto close, like he wants to fuse their bodies together. His breath is ragged- whether from the gas or from anxiety, Naruto can’t tell.

“I just need…” Sasuke mutters. “Just let me…”

He squeezes Naruto like he could get any closer. Makes a weird sound Naruto’s never heard before.

Awkwardly, gingerly, Naruto returns the embrace, patting Sasuke on the back as if that alone could comfort him.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he offers, pitifully. “You’re okay. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Whether it’s five seconds or five thousand that they stay like this, neither of them can tell.  But even if it’s weird, Naruto doesn't find himself disliking it. He can feel Sasuke’s heart against his chest, feel his breath on his neck. He can feel the warmth of his skin. And he knows that Sasuke is  _ here,  _ really  _ here _ , and for some reason that makes it okay.

Sasuke moves his head. Their faces are millimeters apart now, and Naruto remembers that time, that lifetime ago, when they’d kissed- totally on accident, of course.

That time, it was an accident. But would it be so bad to do it on purpose…?

“-You two coming, or should I grab you a condom?”

Naruto debates strangling Sai for interrupting the moment. Sasuke tenses up in his arms, but doesn't have any reaction of his own.

“...We’re comin’,” Naruto finally growls. “Give us a sec.”

Reluctantly, Sasuke allows Naruto to disentangle their bodies, and wrap a towel around him.

“Let’s go,” he grumbles. And sasuke complies.

(Why does he feel so disappointed?)

 

They all gather in Gaara’s office, dressed in borrowed Suna shinobi uniforms.

“Sit down,” Sakura orders, shoving Sai into a chair the second he walks in. “I want to try something.”

She shuts her eyes for a small moment. Flexes her fingers a bit, then touches them to the deepest cut on Sai’s arm.  Sai flinches like it hurts.

Thin threads of blue chakra stretch between Sakura’s fingertips and the wound when she pulls her hand back. She repeats the motions a few times, until the wound is closed tightly, leaving the delicate chakra threads behind. Sakura’s eyes are wide like she can’t believe it worked.

“-I’ve been meaning to try that for awhile.” she explains, while looking Sai’s other injuries over. “If I’m right, that should help it heal faster.”

“Eh? How did you-”

“Ever since I saw Chiyo-baasama and her puppets,” she answers, “I wondered if maybe their strings could be used for medical stuff. Looks like I’m right.”

She sounds proud of herself. She can’t help but smile a little at her handiwork for a bit before she sews up the other two gashes that need sewing. Sai grimaces the whole time, but bears it without complaining.

Sasuke watches, his face red for reasons entirely unrelated to the phosgene he’s inhaled.

“You alright, Sasuke?” Naruto asks, waving a hand in front of his face.

Sai giggles, catching the way his dark eyes follow Sakura’s every movement.

“You’re pretty greedy, Sasuke,” he remarks. “Can’t make up your mind?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sasuke retorts, more forcefully than is necessary.

“You’re really bad at playing dumb.”

Sai stands up and straightens back out, stretching out with a great yawn.

“Alright then, what now?”

Gaara emerges from under his desk, with a few binders, a small locked box, and a neatly folded cotton scarf.

“I’ve got everything I need. Maybe it’s best to head under and make sure everything is holding up there. Or if some of you wanted to go to the north gate and make sure everything is alright-”

“Well, where do you want us?”

Gaara ponders for a moment.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like you to stay with me. I’ve got a weird feeling.”

Naruto grins that grin that radiates off him like sunlight, like it’s illuminating the whole room.

“Yeah, no problem!”

“As long as you need us, we’ll be here,” Lee agrees, with a grin of his own.

Gaara smiles too, catching their confidence like the best sort of contagion.

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

Deidara concentrates intently in the small mirror he’s got on Hidan’s gurney, drawing a thick black line across his eyelid, and darkening translucent blond eyelashes. He runs a brush through his hair, tying half of it back into a high ponytail. Finally, he throws his newly-pilfered Akatsuki cloak over his shoulders, pulling his arms through the sleeves before giving himself one last appraising glance in the mirror.

“Wish we had these things before I died,” he remarks, whether to himself or to Hidan, laying half-awake on the gurney. “The old ones were a goddamned eyesore  _ hn. _ ”

Hidan moans weakly. Deidara decides to take that as agreement.

“God, I finally look like me again  _ hn.  _ Felt like I was naked there for awhile.”

Hidan makes a noise that might be him attempting to laugh, but it sounds painful.

“Ah shut up,” Deidara huffs. “Not  _ that  _ kinda naked and you know it!”

The sound Hidan makes now is probably disappointment. Deidara manages to smile at him.

“Hey, we’ll worry about that when your brain’s not crawling with worms  _ hn.  _ Right now you couldn’t be less of a turn-on if you tried.”

Deidara stands up, stretching out the crick in his neck from sleeping on it wrong.

“Well I’m gonna try to find Kisame or somethin’,” he says. “Maybe try n’ have some fun, yeah?”

A whine.

“You’ll be fine, jeez. Don’t gimme that crap.”

Deidara pats him on the head, to make sure he knows it’s all in good fun.

“I’ll be back before ya know it  _ hn.  _ Just take it easy.”

 

* * *

“That boy of yours is causing me a lot of trouble.”

The only other sounds in the graveyard are the gentle whispering of the wind through the trees. Danzo leans heavily against his cane, frowning at the small, plain headstone in front of him, adorned with a wreath of vibrant spider lilies.

(Her favorite. He still remembers.)

“I’m not overly concerned,” he continues, scratching at the scar on his chin. “He’s always had a rebellious streak- he’ll get it out of his system soon enough. Same as always.”

Coming here always makes him feel nostalgic. He can’t help but smile a little bit.

“He’s like you that way, eh?”

Kiyohime doesn't answer him- of course, she never does. But he doesn't particularly need her to. 

“This won’t last long. I don’t intend to draw this war out, so you don’t have to worry.”

(She hated war, hated fighting- he remembers that still, as well.)

His peace is broken by a handful of noisy crows flying over his head. He watches them go by, a vague sort of amusement inside him.

(She’s not the only one, of course.)

“Won’t take long,” he repeats, quieter this time. “You’ll see.”

 


	12. No more hiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the plot takes a break for shameless Sannin smut. I'm not sorry :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFWNSFW

“Beg your pardon?”

Orochimaru holds up a neatly-sealed scroll, smiling at Obito.

“I’ve gotten the things I came for. If you would be so kind as to send me back to Oto, I’d be grateful.”

Obito scowls, looking over at Kakashi, engrossed in the scuffle going on not far from them.

“It won’t take more than thirty seconds, then you can come right back to your boyfriend.”

Obito bristles at the snide remark, but relents anyway.

“Fine.”

He doesn't seem too enthused, but so long as he gets where he’s going, Orochimaru can’t find it in himself to really care.

 

Kabuto is waiting when Orochimaru materializes out of Kamui, with Obito’s complaining following through the void.

(Something about not being a messenger bird, but neither of them quite catch it.)

“Tsunade and Jiraiya are waiting for you,” he says, distrustfully. “They said as soon as you’re washed up, they want to talk to you.”

“Oh? About what?”

“They wouldn’t tell me.”

Orochimaru knows that grouchy look on Kabuto’s face; he hates being out of the loop, and not knowing. 

“Whatever it is, I’ll handle it,” he assures him, patting him on the head. “You don’t need to waste time worrying.”

(It’s a silly thing to say- worrying has always been in Kabuto’s nature. But Orochimaru says it anyway.)

“I’ll wash up, then I’ll see what they want.”

“Orochimaru-sama-”

“I told you you don’t have to waste time worrying. Your energy is better suited elsewhere.”

He hands Kabuto the scroll he’d brought along.

“Put this with the others for me, will you?”

Kabuto scowls, heading off with a huff. Orochimaru heads in the other direction so he can wash.

 

Somehow, while he was bathing, Tsunade and Jiraiya have appeared in Orochimaru’s bedroom. They stand there with arms folded, when he emerges from the shower, with a towel around his waist and another over his shoulders.

Orochimaru tilts his head, regarding them curiously.

“Did you need something?” he asks, idly drying his hair, not quite looking at either of them.

“Yeah, actually,” Jiraiya answers.

“Oh?”

Tsunade and Jiraiya look at each other. Then at Orochimaru, who’s still working on drying his hair like nothing is wrong.

“We’ve been talking,” she says. “We know you’re hiding stuff from us, and we’re gonna need that to stop.”

Orochimaru freezes up, tilting his head in the other direction.

“Hiding?”

(He’s doing it again. Pulling away when he needs to be drawing closer. Clamming up because he thinks they won’t understand.)

“Cut the bullshit,” Jiraiya snaps. “Why do you think it’s okay to just not tell me you might get sick again?”

Orochimaru flinches. He looks away from the both of them, almost like he’s ashamed.

“Because there’s nothing you can do about it if it happens,” he answers. “There’s only one way I’ve found to escape it. Neither of you will accept that, and I don’t expect you to. So, as it stands, I have no idea what’s going to happen- what’s the point in worrying you over it?”

“Orochimaru, this is the sort of bullshit that fucked everything up in the first place!”

Jiraiya’s tone is harsh, and accusatory, and it makes Orochimaru flinch again.

“You can’t just keep shit hidden from us! We’re supposed to be in this together, so start acting like it!”

When Orochimaru opts for stubborn silence, Tsunade chimes in.

“Look, if you don’t trust us you need to just say  so now so we get it out of the way.”

“It’s not that I don’t!” Orochimaru snarls. And that seems to be what they were waiting to hear.

“Prove it, then.”

“Hm?”

Tsunade holds her hands out toward him.

“Give me your arms.”

“What are you-”

“-If you trust us, then prove it. Give me your arms.”

Reluctantly, slowly, Orochimaru obeys the command. Tsunade whips a length of bandage out of seemingly nowhere, and before Orochimaru can really put two and two together, his wrists are bound tightly together.

“What is the meaning of this?” He hisses.

“If you trust us, then prove it,” Tsunade repeats. “On the bed.”

Orochimaru’s eyes narrow, and for a moment it seems like he’s going to protest. But, ultimately, he obeys. Tsunade and Jiraiya each put a hand against his back to urge him forward.

Even with his hands bound, he gets up on the bed with an obnoxious amount of grace, sitting cross-legged on top of the deep purple duvet. His two companions walk out of his field of view, but when he tries to turn his head to follow-

“Don’t move,” Jiraiya orders. So he doesn't. But at the very edge of his peripheral vision, he can see Tsunade undressing.

Finally the gears click into place in his brain, and a minimalist smirk curls his lips.

“You could’ve just said so,” he snickers. Neither of them give him a response.

The mattress dips a bit when Tsunade climbs onto the bed behind him. She wraps her arms around him and pulls him close, so her bare breasts press into his back and he’s sat between her legs. Orochimaru squirms, even though he knows trying to break free is pointless; even if he wanted to, he knows how easily her overwhelming strength would break him.

“You won’t get away that easy.”

Jiraiya is on the bed now too, letting Orochimaru’s towel fall away as he pulls his legs open.

“Aw, someone’s happy to see me,” Jiraiya laughs. “I’m flattered.”

“Oh fuck you,” Orochimaru snarls, face hot from embarrassment.

“Only one getting fucked here is  _ you _ .” 

Orochimaru’s retort is lost in a groan the moment Jiraiya’s hands are on his body. He arches upward into his touch, and he can feel Tsunade’s smug smile against his shoulder.

“I didn’t think you were into this sorta thing,” she teases.

“I’m not, but-”

“-That’s a lie. And not a very good one, Maru.”

“It’s no-ah!”

Tsunade shuts him up by tweaking his nipple.

“Maybe you should stop talking,” she offers.

She and Jiraiya exchange a look. Slipping an arm free, she passes him an opaque bottle.

“You ready?” Jiraiya asks, pouring out a generous amount of lubricant onto his fingers.

“As I’ll ever be,” Orochimaru replies, rather than pleading for it the way a small (albeit very  _ vocal _ ) part of him wants to.

Tsunade grabs one of his thighs, pulling it back to open him up wider. She watches shamelessly when Jiraiya pushes in, eliciting a small gasp from their teammate.

“I still remember the last time.” Jiraiya says, rocking his hand in a slow, leisurely way that draws a whine of frustration out of Orochimaru. “You really liked it when I played right here, right?”

He shifts the angle, pressing his fingers upward, and Tsunade watches breathlessly when Orochimaru jolts, his erection throbbing against his belly. She kisses his neck, feels his low moaning vibrate under her mouth. She rocks her hips against him, trying to get some friction to satisfy the insistent heat bubbling up inside her.

He looks good like this. Sounds good like this. And judging by the way he writhes in her grasp, he  _ feels  _ good like this.

“I didn’t take you for the type who likes being toyed with,” Jiraiya croons, leaning in close, teasing his erection with slow, lazy strokes.

“I’m not-” Orocimaru’s lie falls apart, turning into a wanton, desperate sound.

“You should be more honest with us,” Tsunade suggests, allowing the hand not holding him still to wander over his skin. “Since your body keeps giving you away.”

Orochimaru, for once, seems at a loss for words. He throws his head back, pressing against Tsunade, bound hands straining to be free. The sounds making their way out of his throat grow increasingly insistent with every little touch.

“You’re pretty cute like this, y’know that? Maybe we shoulda done this earlier…”

“Stop talking bullshit!” Orochimaru snarls. “Just-”

“Hm? What do you want, Maru?”

“You know what I want!”

“Well maybe I just wanna hear you beg.”

“As if I would ever-”

He gasps when Jiraiya bites down on his shoulder,  _ hard _ . 

“-Goddamn it, just  _ fuck  _ me already!”

“Rude,”  Jiraiya teases, withdrawing his fingers and earning another frustrated growl. “Didn’t anyone teach you how to ask nicely?”

He rests his hands on Orochimaru’s thighs, his face set in a pretend-stern expression. Tsunade catches his throat in the crook of her elbow, and when she speaks, her voice is the same.

“You heard him,” she faux-scolds. “Have some manners.”

Breath catching in the back of his throat, humiliation heavy in his voice, Orochimaru gives in.

“Please-”

Tsunade moans against his ear, and he feels her reach back behind him to touch herself.

“Well, since you said please-”

Tsunade adjusts her grip, bracing herself against the headboard and pulling Orochimaru with her. Jiraiya groans, and Orochimaru lets out a cry the likes of which she’s never heard anyone make before.

“Fuck-”

Jiraiya grabs his free leg and pushes it upward, not wasting any time before he starts to move. Orochimaru swears, teeth clenched, eyes shut tight. His muscles twitch with every thrust, his breath coming in a series of ragged moans.

_ Fuck.  _ Tsunade can’t help but be a little jealous.  She presses her tongue against the bruise already blooming across his shoulder, delighting in the way he whines in response.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asks, with a light laugh against his sweat-damp skin, pushing her fingers deeper into herself.

Whatever Orochimaru tries to say in response is garbled and incoherent, swallowed up when Jiraiya sneaks a kiss, grabbing a handful of silky black hair and pulling it taut to keep his head still.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” Jiraiya says, in a low growl that rumbles from deep in his chest.  “You piss me off so  _ fucking  _ much but I just can’t get enough of you-”

“-Could say the same for you,” Orochimaru manages to choke out, with a half-assed attempt at his usual smug smirk. But he’s too needy, too flustered to put up the barriers he always wraps himself in, so even that doesn't last long. He arches upward, trying in vain to get some sort of contact for his neglected arousal.

“God, I’m close,” Jiraiya breathes, dropping his head down so his forehead brushes Orochimaru’s; he loses his rhythm, grabs Orochimaru’s ass hard enough to leave more bruises. In a few more moments, Tsunade’s arm abruptly tightens around Orochimaru’s throat; she comes as well, with a small whimper, her entire body rocked by it.

When her hand returns to Orochimaru’s skin, it’s slick, the pads of her fingers warped. She looks up at Jiraiya, then pushes Orochimaru toward him.

(If he thought he’d get a chance to catch his breath, he was mistaken.)

“My turn.”

“Eh? Didn’t you just-”

“-I’m not done yet.”

Jiraiya shrugs, manhandling Orochimaru until his back is flat against his chest. Orochimaru struggles against him, but it’s more of a token gesture than anything. Gold eyes are riveted toward Tsunade, wide, hungry with anticipation.

She straddles him, leaning over his head to kiss their companion, rubbing her soaked-slick cunt against his impatient erection to draw out still more of those noises she’s quickly becoming addicted to.

But, as much as she wants to tease, she’s still flustered too, so she only lets her hips hover for a moment before letting them drop.

“Shit-” she breathes, taking a moment to adjust to the unbearably full feeling. She lets her eyes fall shut, listening to her own heart pounding in her ears.

“This is a nice view,” Jiraiya remarks.

“Sh-shut up!” Tsunade snaps back, far less forcefully than she intended.

It’s been so  _ long  _ since she’s done this. She missed it more than she thought…

Orochimaru loops his arms over her head, so his bound hands rest at the back of her neck. He rolls his hips upward, a wordless plea for her to move. And since he’s been so good so far, she indulges him.

She goes slowly to start, savoring the low hum of pleasure that buzzes inside her, and very much enjoying the hazy-eyed, helpless look on Orochimaru’s face. She leans over him once again, to steal another kiss from Jiraiya. Then she picks up her pace, savoring every little sound they share until she decides to kiss Orochimaru too.

He tastes melancholy, if such a thing can really be tasted. He tangles his tongue around hers like he doesn't want to let it go.

She imagines herself running after some prize (though what exactly, she’s not sure), envisions reaching her arm up toward it, pictures her fingers closing around it when she sees stars in her vision, clinging tightly to Orochimaru when she comes again, calling his name out softly.

Orochimaru gasps, then shudders, skinny hips jerking upward as he follows her lead. He slumps forward, Tsunade’s body the only thing keeping him from collapsing completely.

“Aw, I guess we tired you out, huh?” Jiraiya teases, petting the crown of Orochimaru’s head. 

No answer- not even a dirty look in response. When Jiraiya undoes the bandage tying his wrists together, his arms fall limply against the dirtied bedding, angry red marking the skin where he’d been bound.

“You gonna live?”

Orochimaru just lays his head against Tsunade’s chest, letting out a shaky sigh.

Tsunade can feel his heart hammering away, and for a moment wonders if that’s what she was chasing after in her fantasy. She wants to get up, to wash off, but-

-he peers up at her, through a curtain of dark hair, reaching up toward her as innocently as a child reaching up toward their mother, and she doesn't have it in her to pull away.

(It’s strange, that innocence. Where would it have come from- surely the three of them sold away their innocence a long time ago? It reminds Tsunade of when they were young. When they’d lay out in the grass and stare up at the endless night sky; one of Orochimaru’s favorite things to do. He’d reach toward the abyss above, hand spread wide like he wanted to snatch the full moon from the firmament.) 

“...Let’s stay like this for awhile,” she suggests, cradling his head against her breast.

Jiraiya nods, wrapping strong, sturdy arms around both of them.

(Always strong. Always reliable. That’s what Jiraiya has always been.)

It’s been awhile- ages, actually- since any of them have felt this close to being content.

“...Maru,” he says, softly, once they’ve all caught their breath. “...Do you trust us?”

He’s quiet for a moment or two. Then-

“...Yes.”

“Then from now on, no more hiding. No matter what it is, you let us know. Can you do that for us?”

For a half second, it seems like Orochimaru might argue. But then-

“...Yes, fine.”

His voice is hoarse, in the very best way. His eyes flutter like he’s fighting sleep- natural, since he’s been up for a few days straight now. He makes a low sound of protest whenTsunade gets up and off him, so the three of them can lay out on the bed, she and Jiraiya tucking Orochimaru between them.

“I have things I need to-”

“-Worry about them later. For now, you need to rest for awhile.”

Orochimaru would protest, but he’s already half-conscious as it is. And Jiraiya’s rough hand stroking his hair is so very nice, he can’t help himself. He lets himself succumb, just for awhile, held by the two dearest people to him in the world.


End file.
